Disclaimer: For general disclaimer, see Part I.

On with the show… visions and their implications...

o o o o o o

For such a short and easy day at work, she sure was pretty exhausted when she got home. The first thing she did was soak her aching and bruised body in a steaming hot, fragrant bubble bath for an hour. When she felt remotely human again, and very wrinkly, she wrapped herself in a thick, fluffy bathrobe, combed her wet hair away from her face, too lazy to blow-dry it, and was ready to settle on her couch to watch the news. She had barely sat down when there was a knock on her front door. Sighing, she got up again and opened.

She should have known Harm would come over to check up on her. She could only imagine what he must have thought at their bizarre encounters ever since she took that fall this morning. Still in his uniform – never mind dress whites, she really was a total sucker for his winter dress blues, but she wasn't going to tell him – he leaned against the door frame with a smile on his face. A smile she had never seen directed at her either… it was sexy and suggestive. Her heart plummeted straight down her tummy.

"There's a snowstorm moving in." His voice was dark, raspy, lazed with innuendo, and she found her knees buckling. "Perfect opportunity to come home and make love with you in front of the fireplace."

Her mouth dropped open and she could only stare at him. God, she hoped she wasn't drooling. She hardly noticed that she moved closer to him, ever closer, until their faces were mere inches apart. She looked up at him, licked her lips, anticipating his on hers. Almost giddy with the excitement of finally kissing him. "Harm…" she whispered, while her eyes drooped close and her lips neared his…

"Mac," an insistent voice, so un-Harm-like, grated her nerves and rushed over her like a cold shower. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes, dejected about having to face the reality that this, once more, had only been a hallucination conjured up by her scrambled brain. The face in front of her morphed into Mic's. His expression anything but happy.

"Did you just call me Harm?" He questioned her, unrelenting.

"No, of course not." But she couldn't look at him while she knew that she was lying, and he knew it, too.

"Yes, you did." Mic took a deep breath before plunging ahead, suddenly realizing that this was it. What had been looming over their relationship from the get-go, and even before. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not," the expected answer flowing easily out of her mouth, made easier with years of practice but never having sounded so unconvincing. She turned away from the door and walked two steps back into her apartment, needing some distance. "It's just… he's my best friend, Mic…"

Mic followed, walking into the apartment behind her, forcefully and angrily slamming the door closed. She whipped around at the sound, and suddenly, everything about the situation annoyed her. How he just strolled in without asking, as if he owned the place, as if he owned her. Her mind flooded with memories, flashes of how he had done the same thing with her life; had just walked back into it, without asking for her opinion or input; how he made all these life-altering decisions without her; how he had set her ultimatums until he got her where he wanted her. How she, somewhere deep inside of her, in that place where she usually didn't go, felt pressured into giving him what he wanted, demanded. While simultaneously ignoring her heart's deepest desires. How he manipulated her from the very first day. This had nothing to do with love, not for her.

Thirty-nine minutes later, the door slammed, loud and forceful, a second time back into its frame, this time from the outside. Her fingers were bare apart from her Marine Corps ring, and she had once again joined the ranks of the almost 25 million or so single women in the country. She felt incredibly free.

o o o o o o

Harm was worrying about Mac. Didn't he always, on some subconscious level? God, she would have his hide if she ever found out; would probably see it as a personal affront against her Marine skills that someone genuinely worried about her well-being. As if one thing had anything to do with the other. Thankfully, she had at least been true to her word and went home early. Now he was home, too, but he had barely made it inside himself when there had been a knock on his door, and Renée in front of it. Resentment bubbled up in him about the fact that he barely had any time on his own these days, but felt immediately guilty about the thought. It wasn't Renée's fault that he had issues.

Renée was quite aware that Harm was preoccupied; miles away from the conversation she was trying to interest him in. She was nothing if not straight-forward, so she plunged ahead. "Harm, what are you really thinking about, just now?"

"Mac," he blurted out, and her face fell.

"Is she your dream girl?"

He immediately scrambled to salvage what he could. "Sorry, it's not what you think. She just hit her head today," he elaborated, "and seemed a little out of it, but of course, didn't want to go see a doctor… You know how she is…"

Actually, she didn't, nor had she any interest to find out, but that wasn't something he needed to know right now.

"So I'm just a little worried." he continued. "She's my best friend, and I feel as if I should check up on her."

He had the decency to at least look slightly guilty about the fact that he was here with her while thinking about another woman. "Harm, doesn't she have Mic for that?" She felt the need to point out. Unfortunately, he didn't look any happier or more reassured about that fact. "They are getting married, remember." 'Remember?' Her mind chuffed at that. Personally, she was counting the days! Having Mac off the market for good was hopefully going to be the eye-opener Harm needed in order to move forward.

"Harm, tell her to get out of your dreams," she continued when he didn't react, "and then you can have me, and I can have my miracle." She scooted closer to him, her whole attention focused on Harm to make sure that he'd get her meaning. He was a wonderful man, and she had no intention of letting him get away. Her fingers trailed lightly over his cheeks while she, by applying just slight pressure, made him face her. She leaned closer to claim one of his breathtaking kisses…

And suddenly it hit Harm that Renée wanted a future with him, while he simply couldn't imagine the same thing with her. He tried to envision moving in with her, proposing, marrying, a baby, and all he saw was Mac's face. No matter what, he wouldn't be able to give Renée her 'miracle', not now, not ever. It wasn't fair to string her along any longer. He took a deep breath. "Renée, we need to talk…"

About half an hour later, his apartment was once again void of any signs a female had recently occupied it, and he had become part of the 30 or so million single men out there again. He realized that he hadn't been breathing this easily for at least a year.

TBC

AN: It was an immense pleasure for me to get rid of both Mic and Renée in one go! LOL! Stay tuned for the final part!!

Source of statistical data: US Census Bureau, Statistical Abstract of the United States 2007, Tables 54 and 55 (presented figures refer to census data of 2000 and exclude separated, divorced, and widowed).