A/N: Next chapter! Enjoy! :)

"I almost do" by Taylor Swift inspired this chapter.

A thank you to Ciara and alix33 for reviewing and a thank you to AvaniHeath for her thoughts!

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

3 I almost do

Although she'd stopped for breakfast on her way to work—breakfast she hadn't eaten because she wasn't hungry—Mac still arrived unusually early. She met only a handful of people as she made her way to her office. She automatically glanced left, half expecting to find Harm sitting behind his desk, but of course he wasn't there yet. Part of her was grateful for his absence, the other longed to see him, and she didn't know which was worse.

She should never have kissed him.

But she'd wanted to know what it would be like to feel his lips against hers again—this time knowing he was kissing her and not the ghost of his dead friend Diane—and to have him hold her. A taste, that was all she'd wanted. A taste of something that wasn't hers, would never be hers, so that she could put it out of her mind afterwards, forever. But she should have known it wouldn't work. After all, she knew from bitter experience that one taste was all it ever took to get her hooked.

Gradually, the others started arriving. Harriet waved at her from across the bullpen but fortunately was too preoccupied with her husband to come over and chat. While Mac was grateful that Harriet was in charge of the wedding preparations, she found it hard to muster the enthusiasm Harriet thought she should display. Of course she hadn't said anything—she never would—but Mac had noticed the way she'd looked at her during her last fitting. Remembering how excited Harriet had been in the days leading up to her wedding, Mac understood why it confused her that she didn't seem happy when, by rights, she should be.

Mac wasn't unhappy, but she wasn't quite happy either.

Perhaps because deep down she knew she was doing all of this for the wrong reasons.

The thought made her sit up straight, her mouth suddenly dry.

Do you love him? Harm had wanted to know.

You don't get to ask that, she'd replied.

That she hadn't simply answered his question said a lot. But she did love Mic. She did. She did. Otherwise she wouldn't have agreed to marry him. Would she?

Why did you have to go to him so quickly?

You pushed me away.

If she was truly and completely honest with herself, she'd gone to him because she didn't want to be alone. Because she was tired of waiting. Because she couldn't have the man she'd wanted then. But the problem was that she still wanted him. Knowing that she shouldn't—and that she couldn't have him—didn't make it any easier.

What kind of person does that make me? Mac thought wretchedly. But then, how else was she supposed to move on? She'd never get past what she felt for Harm if she didn't at least try. It was hardly fair on Mic; she knew that. But she also knew that he suspected the depths of her feelings for Harm and he seemed willing to live with that. He loved her that much.

When Harm finally showed up almost an hour later, she was going over her notes again, re-familiarising herself with the key points. In her peripheral vision, she saw him pause in front of her office, but she'd closed the door so that nobody would disturb her unless it was important, and he moved on.

A lump rose in her throat. She didn't want to push him away, but she felt she had no choice. She didn't trust herself around him. She'd kissed him once. She might do it again—or might take things further still—and she couldn't count on him to stop her.

She barely said a word to him on the way to the courtroom, ignoring the confused looks he shot her. He acted just as always, good-natured and cheerful. He'd quite obviously decided to pretend Friday hadn't happened. She wished it would be as easy for her as it was for him. But she had kissed him, not the other way around.

"You okay?" he asked her after the trial, intercepting her on her way back to her office.

She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze, afraid of what he might see in her face. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just didn't sleep very well." Not quite the truth, but not a lie either. She hated lying to him, mainly because it was pointless. He always knew when she wasn't telling the truth, he just never called her on it or pushed her. He let it go until she was ready to talk.

Only this time she couldn't confide in him. It would only complicate matters further and her life was already complicated enough. "I'm fine," she insisted, forcing a smile when she sensed that he wouldn't let it go.

"Okay," he said in reply, with a smile of his own. "So…" He fell in beside her as they walked to the elevator. "How was your weekend?"

"Busy. Harriet and I had a lot of errands to run." For which she was still profoundly grateful. She'd been completely wiped out when she got home Saturday night and gone straight to bed, and Mic had been out with friends last night, so they'd had very little alone time. "You?"

"Spent it with Renée."

The way he said it made her think that he'd rather have spent his weekend in a different manner, but she didn't ask. She didn't want to get involved.

"Nice," she said, realising he was waiting for a reply. She hated how cold she sounded, how distant. How long would she be able to keep this up before the distance between them became unbearable?

They stepped into the elevator. Again Mac found herself alone with him; nobody was riding down with them. As she reached for the button, so did he, his palm soft and warm against the back of her hand. She quickly dropped it, curling it into a fist, and let him push the button. He didn't say anything, but the heavy silence between them spoke volumes.

Because it hadn't been just the kiss.

oOo

Harm couldn't stop himself from glancing Mac's way as they stood in front of Chegwidden's office, waiting for him to call them in. If she noticed, she didn't let on. But perhaps she didn't; she still seemed preoccupied and he wondered why that was. Surely not because of Friday? He had expected things to be awkward, but her evasiveness confused him. There was something she wasn't telling him. When he'd asked her just now how she was doing, she'd lied. He'd seen it in her face, that indecisiveness—tell him the truth or lie? He could even pinpoint the exact moment she'd decided on the latter. She wasn't a bad liar, but she'd never been able to fool him. She always became withdrawn, detached, when there was something she didn't want to share. He wondered why other people never picked up on that.

But other people probably weren't watching her as closely all the time as he was.

He wouldn't push the issue. She'd come to him when she was ready. He wanted her to let him in because she wanted to, not because she felt he was pressuring her. She was just as bad at confiding in other people, of letting someone in, as he was.

But what if she didn't want to talk to him because it was because of Friday? Because she'd decided that she needed to put some distance between them? Hard as it would be, he'd have to accept it. Part of him even understood; she couldn't hold on to him when she was getting married to another man in less than two weeks, and if kissing her made him question his relationship, then how was she handling it?

His gaze dropped to her hand. The memory of the back of his hand brushing against hers as they had listened to Chegwidden's toast warmed his thoughts, yet part of him was horrified. It was one thing for her to kiss him, but quite another for him to reach out for her when she was tied to another man. And that light touch had been more intimate than the kiss itself.

"He'll see you now," Tiner announced, breaking into his reverie. He stepped past them to open the door, closing it behind them once they had entered.

The atmosphere in the office was tense and all thoughts of Mac instantly vanished from Harm's mind. The admiral was sitting behind his desk, his jaw set and his eyes dark. He gestured for them to take a seat when they snapped to attention, then rose, slowly walking around his desk to join them. As Harm sank into one of the armchairs, he noticed the Marine general standing by the TV, his face drawn and his lips pressed together in a tight line. He looked like a man who'd just been through hell. He glanced at Mac, who gave a tiny shrug, her forehead creased.

She'd noted the tension too.

"Commander Rabb, Colonel MacKenzie, this is General Jonathan Acker," Chegwidden said, his voice flat.

Harm sat up a little straighter and, from the corner of his eyes, saw Mac doing the same. There were very few things that got to the admiral like that. Whatever had happened, whatever the reason he'd called them into his office, it was bad.

"The general is a friend of mine," he continued as he sat down, hands clasped loosely in his lap. "Which is why I've decided to agree to this. Jon?" He motioned for Acker to sit down as well, but the general merely gave a minute shake of his head, his shoulders stiffening. He swallowed visibly.

"Alright," Chegwidden said quietly. "Seven days ago the general's daughter, Lieutenant Florence Acker, went missing from Norfolk Naval Station. This morning her body was found by Lieutenant Hannah Wright, her roommate, in the quarters they share—shared—on-base."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Mac said sincerely.

The general gave a curt nod. Perhaps he didn't trust himself to speak.

"Her CO assumed she went UA, but clearly that wasn't the case."

"We knew something was wrong," Acker rasped. He slumped into the chair beside Chegwidden, his shoulders sagging. He looked broken. But then, the man had just lost his daughter and Harm could imagine without difficulty what he must be feeling. In all the investigations he had ever led, all the interviews he had done, talking to those left behind was always the hardest part for him. He could relate only too easily.

"We knew something was wrong," he repeated. His hands tightened on his thighs. "Flo would never run off like that. She loves being in the Navy. She loves her job. She'd never do anything to jeopardise her career and she'd never simply disappear. She knows how much her mother worries."

He was still speaking of his daughter in the present tense. It hadn't sunk in yet that she was gone.

"We were expecting the worst," he went on, "but when the NCIS came by our house this morning…" He looked up, meeting Harm's eyes. "I guess we'd been still hoping that Flo would return to us alive." He drew a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were hard as steel. Squaring his shoulders, he sat up. When he spoke next, his tone was brisk. "Of course the agent didn't want to tell us exactly what happened, so I gave Lieutenant Wright a call. I may have been too hard on her," he admitted, "but I'm sure you understand that I have to get to the bottom of this, and I will. I don't doubt that NCIS is very good at what they do, but I need someone on this I can trust. Someone who won't spare me the details and who keeps me in the loop and this agent—Rhys or something—made it clear that he won't."

"You said your daughter was found in her quarters this morning, Sir?" Mac asked.

"That's correct, Colonel. And by the ME's estimate, she'd already been dead for at least three hours when Wright discovered her."

Harm wondered how he'd gotten that piece of information. Probably by twisting an arm or two. Distraught as he was, Acker didn't seem like the kind of man you'd want to cross. He hadn't been kidding when he'd said he'd get to the bottom of this.

Mac stared at the general, repulsed. She must have reached the same conclusion Harm had. Someone had held Florence Acker captive somewhere for a week before killing her and returning her body home. Harm thought that he should be shocked, but he'd seen up close what human beings were capable of and it no longer surprised him; it only made him angry.

Acker gave a bitter laugh. "Yes, Colonel. Someone abducted my daughter from a secure naval base and, over the course of seven days, tortured and raped her. And then he brought her home and strangled her in her own bed. He murdered her in a place where she was supposed to feel safe." The last part of the sentence came out as a snarl.

Chegwidden glanced at his friend, but if he'd hoped to calm him, it didn't have the desired effect.

"I want this bastard found, AJ," Acker said sharply. "I want him to pay for what he did to my girl."

"I promise you that we'll do everything in our power to help," Chegwidden said calmly. "You have my word."

"Thank you."

A beeper went off just then. Acker dug it out of his pocket, his gaze hardening when he looked at it. "Damn media vultures," he ground out as he got to his feet. "I'm sorry, AJ. I need to leave. Somehow the media already got wind of this and are camping out on our front lawn. As if we haven't been through enough already. I'll trust you keep me informed?" he asked, directed at Harm and Mac.

"Of course, Sir," Harm replied.

"Certainly, Sir," Mac said.

They exchanged a quick look. The doubt in her eyes matched his own. If this was his daughter, would he want to know every gruesome detail of what had happened to her? Of what had been done to her?

Knowing how she'd died and suffered wouldn't make the pain go away.

Chegwidden seemed to share his opinion. "Just to be clear, you'll report to me," he said once the general had left. "I'll handle Acker. Right now he isn't thinking straight and when he's had some time to process it, he won't want to live with the knowledge of what his daughter had had to endure prior to her death. At least I wouldn't want to." He sighed heavily. " I'm sure both of you realise the implication of this?"

"Since her murderer managed to abduct her from a heavily guarded naval base," Harm said slowly, "and then bring her back unseen, he's most likely stationed there as well and knows his way around. Otherwise he'd have been noticed."

"Yes. It also means that Norfolk has a serious security problem, which is what you'll officially be investigating. I want to know how he got her off and on base without anyone noticing. That should be close to impossible."

"The NCIS won't like us interfering with their investigation," Mac said.

Chegwidden snorted. "Since when has stepping on people's toes ever stopped the two of you from doing your job?"

They exchanged another look.

"Understood, Sir," Harm said.

"I can't spare you for more than three days, what with your on-going cases, and if you haven't found anything until then, I want you back here. I hope this won't be interfering with your wedding preparations, Colonel?"

"No, of course not," Mac said hurriedly, almost sounding… relieved?

Chegwidden quirked an eyebrow at her, then shrugged and got up, obviously deciding that it was none of his business. "This is a copy of the ME's report," he said as he handed Harm a thick manila envelope. "I don't know how General Acker got it and I didn't ask. It also contains a copy Lieutenant Acker's service record and personnel file. Let me know if you find anything. I've known Flo since she was three years old," he said when they were already halfway out the door. His voice was dangerously quiet and his eyes hard and cold. "I want whoever did this to her brought to justice as much as her father."

A/N: Please let me know what you think!