A/N: The titles of the chapters are the names of the songs I was listening to while I was writing. The inspiration for this chapter—and many of the following chapters—was "Come back… Be here" by Taylor Swift.

Again, thank you, AvaniHeath, for your thoughts.

Enjoy!

Thank you, rlrct, for reviewing!

Disclaimer: JAG is property of Donald P. Bellisario; I'm only borrowing.

1 Come back… Be here

Harm cursed under his breath as the water changed from scalding hot to ice cold for the fifth time in two minutes. He turned it off, deciding that it would have to do, and stepped out of the shower, reaching for his towel.

"Want to tell me what's bothering you?" Renée asked, already fully dressed, her eyebrows raised inquisitively as she sat perched on the edge of his bed.

"Nothing's bothering me," he replied curtly. "Why do you keep asking that?" But the truth was that something was bothering him—had bothered him all weekend—only he couldn't tell her what it was. That would lead to one of those discussions about his relationship with Mac and he was growing tired of having to convince Renée over and over again that there was nothing going between them. Though maybe he would have felt differently if that had actually been the case. Every time the subject came up, he felt like he was lying through his teeth—to Renée as well as to himself.

"Maybe because you've barely spoken a word to me all weekend and I feel under-appreciated?" she replied, smiling to take the sting out of the words.

His first impulse was to snap at her and that said more about his current mood that he cared to contemplate. Drawing a deep breath, he counted to ten in his head while he put on his underwear and slid into his slacks. "I have a lot on my mind right now," he answered finally, hoping she'd leave it at that. But it hadn't escaped his notice that she'd been watching him very closely since Friday night; even with his thoughts a hundred miles away—or over in Georgetown, to be more precise—he wasn't blind, and he couldn't shake the sense of guilt that had settled over him.

What the hell was I thinking?

Over the past few days he'd asked himself that question so many times that he'd lost count, but he had yet to come up with an answer that didn't lead to a whole bunch of new, and for the most part unpleasant, questions. Then again, maybe he was simply asking the wrong question. She had kissed him, not the other way around.

But you kissed her back.

Yeah, I did that, didn't I?

"Obviously," Renée said, pursing her lips as she looked him over. He knew that look and he dreaded it. It was the 'This is about Mac again, isn't it?' look.

As he buttoned up his shirt, he tried not to squirm under her scrutinising gaze. Admitting to her that he was thinking of Mac—again—would probably end this relationship for good. However, to be perfectly honest, he was beginning to think that maybe it was better that way. It was hardly fair on Renée to string her along when he wasn't willing to give her what she wanted. But it would also mean admitting to himself things he didn't want to face and acknowledging feelings he'd rather go on pretending he didn't have, because it made things easier for him this way, and less painful.

You pushed me away.

Yeah, he'd done that too. So he was hardly in a position to complain.

"Look," he said, looping his tie around his neck, "I'm sorry. I know I've been distracted, but I'll make it up to you tonight. Okay?" He knew he owed her at least that; she'd been putting up with a lot, though most of it, like the last-minute trip to Iceland, hadn't really been his fault.

She gave him a smile, appeased, though he thought he saw a flicker of resignation in her eyes. But maybe it was just his own guilty conscience. "I look forward to it."

Once she had left for work and he had finished dressing, Harm poured himself a mug of coffee. He was in no hurry to get to work because today was bound to be awkward. More awkward than usual. After spending the better part of the weekend trying to figure out how to act around Mac, he'd reached the conclusion that it would be best if they simply went back to normal. Or what passed as normal for them anyway.

Besides, it wasn't as if there was another option.

Isn't there?

No. No, there wasn't. Mac had made her choice and she deserved to be happy. Harm might not have cared much for Brumby—though he tried not to think too closely about why that was because that would have led him straight back to all those things he didn't want to face—but he couldn't deny that he loved her. And she loved him.

Didn't she?

If she does, then why did she kiss you?

That was what it came back to, wasn't it? Because while he didn't deny that he'd kissed her back, all the while knowing that he shouldn't, that it wasn't right, she'd initiated it. You have someone who'll always love you. He shouldn't have said it. But they'd been so open with each other, almost painfully honest, and he'd felt that if he didn't tell her how he felt about her then, he'd never be able to move on. And he had to. She already had. The kiss meant nothing. Or rather it shouldn't have meant anything, but, for him, it did. Why else could he still feel her lips on his when he closed his eyes? Why didn't he want to let go of the memory even though he should?

Should should should.

Sighing heavily, he ran a hand through his hair and drained his mug, the coffee as bitter on his tongue as the knowledge that he might have made a mistake. One that would be impossible to correct.

oOo

She lay in bed, a tiny smile one her lips as his lips brushed across the bare curve of her shoulder. She couldn't remember when she had last been this happy. For the first time since he had agreed to marry him she was looking forward to her wedding with undiluted joy. Forever. She'd get to keep him forever. Or at least for the rest of her hopefully very long life. Gone was the dread that twisted her stomach into a knot whenever she thought past the wedding date. So she didn't. Not very often anyway. But she did now. Wondered what lay ahead, what the future might hold in store for them.

He put his arm around her waist and pulled her close. She grasped his hand, intertwining her fingers with his and holding it close to her chest. To her heart. She pressed a kiss to his knuckles and he chuckled quietly into her neck. "Mac…" he whispered.

Mac jolted upright in bed. Disoriented, she blinked into the morning sunlight; for a moment she didn't know where she was and she had to shake her head twice before she remembered that she was in her bedroom. Where else would she be? "God," she whispered miserably as she tried to chase the lingering fragments of the dream out of her mind, at the same time fighting the desire to hang on to them.

Pulling up her knees against her chest and wrapping her arms around them, she gazed at Mic's sleeping form beside her, unable to shake the feeling of dread churning in her stomach. This was wrong. This was so very wrong. Why did she keep dreaming about him? Because she didn't need to see a face in her dream to know that she hadn't been dreaming of her husband-to-be. Of all the men in her life there was only one who ever called her Mac; to the rest she was Sarah.

Lately, she'd been feeling like she was two completely different people who just happened to occupy the same body at the same time. The Sarah part of her couldn't wait to walk down the aisle and be married to a man who loved and cherished her and wanted to keep her forever. The Mac part dreaded all of this because she was afraid to lose her independence and, above all, to lose him. She found it increasingly difficult to reconcile these two sides of the coin that was Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie.

Quietly, she climbed out of bed and switched off her alarm so that it wouldn't wake Mic, who didn't have to get up as early as she did, and went to take a shower, picking up her clothes on the way. She locked the door behind her, something she rarely did, but she couldn't look Mic in the eye right now and if he did wake, he'd come looking for her and maybe even want to join her in the shower. Her stomach knotted at the thought.

She'd been so busy with last-minute wedding details that needed her attention this weekend that she'd barely had any time to think about her engagement party, but it seemed that her subconsciousness had finally caught up with her. Why else would she have dreamt about Harm?

Oh who am I kidding? she thought as she stepped into the shower and turned on the water. It was ice cold, but she didn't change the temperature; maybe a cold shower would bring her to her senses. She was used to Harm starring in her dreams, expected to see him there, if she was honest. It probably said a lot about her relationship to Mic that she had never, not even once, dreamt about him in all those months they'd been together. She'd thought she'd had it under control, but she clearly didn't. Otherwise she wouldn't have kissed him.

Mac slammed her palm against the tiles, shivering under the steady stream of icy water. "Damn it," she said. You have someone who'll always love you. Why did he have to tell her then, damn him? But it wasn't like she hadn't known before what she meant to him.

That had never been the problem.

"Sarah?" she heard Mic call over the rushing water, and it snapped her out of her thoughts.

"I'm almost finished!" Hurriedly, she turned off the water and grabbed her towel, her fingers so stiff from the cold that she nearly dropped it twice. When she glanced in the mirror, her lips were blue.

"You okay?" Mic asked through the closed door. He sounded more confused than worried, his voice still thick with sleep.

"I'm fine." Tossing the towel aside, she started dressing, her skin still damp from the water. "Sorry if I woke you. I tried to be quiet." When had she started lying to him? And not just about the little things, but about the big ones as well. She was grateful that he'd stopped asking her to explain the thing between her and Harm to him, but she didn't think even for a second that he believed that there wasn't more between them than just friendship. Well, maybe it would have been more convincing if she actually believed it herself. 'Best friend' didn't cover all that he was to her and she knew that. But it was all that he could be. All that he was willing to be.

All that she could allow him to be.

"You didn't wake me," Mic said as she stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed. Pulling her against his chest, he kissed her. As she kissed him back, Mac had to fight the urge to shake off his arms—his gentle embrace felt suddenly constricting and wrong. The realisation made her stomach turn. They were getting married in less than two weeks, yet in this instant she could barely bear him touching her.

She pulled back abruptly and his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "I have to go," she whispered, something close to panic slithering up her spine. Slipping into her shoes, she grabbed her briefcase and her keys along with her cap and fled her apartment without even glancing over her shoulder. She didn't want to see the confused expression on Mic's face that was surely there.

She wouldn't have been able to explain.

A/N: Please let me know what you think. Your reviews make me happy! :)