A/N: Thank you so much for the lovely reviews on the last chapter Ciara, achaon, alix33, and AvaniHeath (and they still make me smile as much as they did when I first read them last night).

Also, another huge thank you to AvaniHeath for her thoughts and support!

The chapter was inspired by "Treacherous" by Taylor Swift. I may be a little obsessed with her latest album.

Enjoy!

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

4 Treacherous

Fate, Mac thought, had a twisted sense of humour. It had pulled them apart time and again, only to throw them together when they most needed to be away from each other. Like they did now. She was not looking forward to the three-hour drive to Norfolk and if there'd been any way to avoid it, she'd gladly have taken it. Unfortunately, there was no flight scheduled out of Andrews until the late afternoon and considering that they only had three days to complete their investigation, they couldn't wait that long.

Driving it was.

Mac always had an overnight bag in her trunk as she was a firm believer of being prepared—like all Marines were—but squids generally lacked that much foresight, so she found herself in Harm's apartment an hour after the admiral had dismissed them, watching from the threshold as he stuffed a change of clothes into his duffel bag. He'd asked her to come inside and offered her something to drink while she waited, but she'd declined. She really didn't think she should be in here right now.

She used the opportunity to see if his apartment had changed since she had last visited him. She only vaguely remembered when that was; she hadn't come here since he'd started seeing Renée, not even to discuss a case. They always did that at the office now.

Mac had no ill feelings towards Renée, but she never knew what to talk about with the other woman and she'd rather not run into her, especially not here. Mac was neither blind nor stupid and knew exactly that Renée saw her, if not as a threat, then at least as an obstacle on her path to happiness with the man she loved. She wondered if all women in Harm's life felt that way about her. Jordan surely had and Mac didn't know how to feel about that. Flattered? Or shocked at how obvious it seemed to be to everyone around them that there was something going on between them?

Stepping into the hallway, she retrieved her cell from her bag to give Mic a heads-up that she would be gone until Thursday. She hated how relieved she felt at the thought, but perhaps being away from him for a while would give her enough time to put things in perspective.

He answered on the second ring. "Hello, love," he said, his usual way of greeting her. Usually, it made her heart warm and her cheeks blush; today all she felt was apprehension. She had to get over this and quickly. They were getting married in thirteen days, three hours and seventeen minutes.

"Hey," she replied, relieved that, despite her inner turmoil, her voice sounded normal. "Am I interrupting?"

"Nothing that can't wait until later. Everything all right? You left in quite a hurry this morning."

She had yet to come up with an explanation and was beginning to believe that there wasn't one. "I know," she said, dropping her voice when she heard Harm rummaging around in the kitchen. She didn't want him to overhear. "I'm sorry. I honestly don't know what got into me. I didn't sleep well last night. Bad dream." Another lie. How many would follow? How long would she be able to keep this up?

But it's necessary, she argued. I don't want to hurt him.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" he asked. "I would have comforted you."

"You looked exhausted," she replied. "I didn't want to wake you." Part of her was mortified at how easily the lie fell from her lips. But she could hardly tell him the truth. I dreamt of sleeping with Harm.

She swallowed, pushing the mental image back down. Suddenly walking to Norfolk seemed like a pretty good alternative. Maybe if she left now, she'd be there by tomorrow evening.

"You can tell me about it tonight," he suggested.

"Yeah, about that…" She let her voice trail off. Mic already knew that tone.

"Don't tell me," he said, amusement mixed with was weariness. "You'll be working late?"

"Sort of. I have to go to Norfolk. There's been a murder and Chegwidden needs us to investigate. Looks like they might have a security problem." A second later she realised what she'd said and could have kicked herself.

Mic picked up on it immediately. "Us?" he asked, guarded. "As in you and…?" He didn't finish the sentence, but Mac knew that he knew exactly who she'd be with. Chegwidden usually sent Harm and her, even when it didn't involve something as serious as murder. They were an efficient team because they were familiar with how the other thought and worked.

"Harm," she said, this time without any of the exasperation she usually felt when Mic brought him up. If anything, she sounded defensive. "We should be back by Thursday, maybe earlier, depending on how it goes. I know this is bad timing," she added when he didn't reply immediately. "But Chegwidden is friends with the father of the murdered Lieutenant, so this is kind of personal for him. You'll probably hear about it on the news soon."

When Mic answered, his voice was soft and understanding. "I see. Have a safe flight then."

Mac chose not to tell him that they were driving. Somehow she thought he'd have felt as apprehensive about that as she did. The only difference was that he trusted her while she didn't. Not anymore.

"We will. I'll call you tonight," she promised. "Say hello to Jingo from me." She'd completely forgotten to feed him and take him for his walk this morning, but she knew Mic would have taken care of that. She'd have to thank him for it later. He did a lot of things for her that she never properly thanked him for.

Guilt accompanied the thought. As she hung up, she felt wretched. Running her hand through her hair, she turned and found Harm watching her from the doorway, his bag beside him. She quickly smoothed her pained expression, hoping he hadn't noticed it. If he had, his eyes didn't betray it.

"You ready?" he asked as he pulled the door shut and locked it, slipping the key in its hiding place.

"Yeah." She gave him a smile that she hoped seemed honest. "Want to flip a coin for who gets to drive?"

oOo

Harm lost.

He settled into the passenger's seat with the ME report, but he didn't open it until they were out of the city. The radio was on, playing at a volume that made conversation impossible. He was certain now that Mac didn't want to talk to him and based on her tone when she'd spoken to Mic earlier, he had a pretty good idea why that was. She felt guilty. He wished he could tell her that she had nothing to feel guilty about, but he didn't want to lie to her. So he said nothing, instead flipping through the report without looking too closely at any of the detailed pictures while listening absently to the news.

"I can't imagine what she must have felt like," Mac said eventually, turning down the radio to background noise.

"Neither can I," he agreed softly. He tugged the Lieutenant's service photo out of her personnel file. It showed a woman in her late twenties, with a soft face framed by golden hair, her full lips curved into the slightest smile. Her blue eyes were sparkling. She looked alive and proud, a stark contrast to the photo in the ME report. "She was beautiful."

Mac took her eyes off the road for a moment to look at the picture. "She was. Do you think it's possible what happened to her had something to do with her work?"

"I doubt it. According to this," he held up a slip of paper that contained a brief description of what Florence Acker had been working on prior to her disappearance, "it was pretty normal stuff and certainly nothing sensitive. But," he added with a sigh, "we shouldn't rule it out just yet."

"What did he do to her?" Mac asked quietly.

He opened the ME report to the first page and read it to her, unable to keep the disgust out of his voice as he listed the injuries that Florence Acker had sustained before she was killed. "The ME found shallow cuts all over her body, some already scabbed over, others more or less fresh. A lot of bruising." He made himself look at the ME pictures. Dark bruises ringed the Lieutenant's neck, with lighter discolourations on both her shoulders, running down the entire left side of her body. "The ME also found signs of repeated sexual assault but no DNA, and he estimates that she was beaten at least three times during the past seven days. She had two broken ribs and her left wrist was fractured."

"That is so sick," Mac said flatly, her hands gripping the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles were straining white against her skin. But she didn't ask how somebody could do something like this to another person because they both knew what human beings were capable of.

Harm sighed and stuffed the report back into the envelope, tossing it onto the backseat. Sitting back, he watched the landscape whir past, a blur of green and brown, with blotches of colour in between whenever they passed signs of civilisation.

Mac went back to ignoring him. He watched her from his peripheral vision, trying to be unobtrusive about it, but when her shoulders tensed he knew she'd caught him looking. "What?" she asked sharply.

"You look tired," he said quietly.

"I already told you I didn't sleep well last night." Her tone made it clear that she wanted him to drop it. But there was something else, something she wasn't telling him. Red tinged her cheeks and her embarrassment confused him.

He frowned. "If this is about Friday…"

She cut him off. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Mac…" Pretending nothing had happened wasn't working. Perhaps talking about it would help.

"No!" she all but shouted, then flinched, visibly shocked that she'd raised her voice. "No," she repeated, more quietly. "Please. I can't. Just forget it ever happened."

What if I can't? he wanted to say, but he bit back the words. He wouldn't make this any more difficult for her than it already was.

So he said nothing.

A/N: Please review! I love hearing what you think.