A/N: In light of the number of assumptions and predictions, as well as altogether off target guesses as to the premise of this story and what I mean and what I'm trying to do, I have decided to open a forum for this piece entitled Can We Ever Get Back to Before Discussions. I am all for the expressing of each person's individual opinions but some reviewers have taken criticism and added a personal edge. If you disagree with what I wrote, that is your right as an American and as a human being. However, no one except for me and my partner knows exactly where I am going with this and why I have chosen the path I have chosen. This story was concluded long before Mark's death so I am not using it as an outlet for dealing with that except to distract my mind from it by proofing and editing. I invite all of my readers whether fans or not to go to the forums page, read what I have written and share your opinions about my motives there. The review pages are to discuss the work…not my reasons true or not for writing it.
I understand I have changed the characters; that is my right as a fanfiction writer. I understand many do not like the path they've taken, that is their right as a reader and it is their right to share their opinions, I just ask that the opinions of my own personal intentions be debated on the forum where I have equal forum to respond to them. Thank everyone who has read and who will continue to read…this was a long, hard difficult path, but love or family or anything truly great in life isn't worth anything if you don't have to fight for it. I invite and ask all of my readers to continue supporting Harm and Mac and their family in their fight…I can only say again, those who choose to stay with me won't be disappointed.
Lucy seemed to recover considerably in the following few days, much to everyone's delight. Harm was thrilled to be back home so close to his children, but even with the added time he got to spend with them now, the sight of Mac's ever-growing baby bump still tore his heart out. He dealt with it fairly well at first, but slowly sank into a lonely depression.
He spent his days recruiting at Georgetown and surrounding colleges, but his nights were spent in bed or slumped with a beer on AJ's sofa. The retired Admiral finally decided it was time to do something about it. "Harm, why don't we go to a game tomorrow night? The Hoyas are playing."
He shook his head. "I don't feel like going out, thanks."
"What about a movie? There's some interesting stuff playing," AJ tried.
Harm set his empty beer bottle on the coffee table and leaned back into the couch. "I can't. I just don't feel like it."
"Harm, it's been eight months since the divorce," AJ sighed. "It's time."
"My heart's not in it, AJ" he replied. "I'm watching the woman of my dreams, the woman I had and threw away, the mother of my children have a child with someone else, someone I hate. I'm not in any mood for socialization."
"Harm I just don't like seeing you like this. Mac's moved on, now you have to. You're going to take root on my couch. Here," AJ handed him a flier.
Harm glanced at the page. "Parents Without Partners? I don't think so, AJ. Maybe later, but not now."
"Come on, go once. Go one time and if you don't like it, I'll buy you a pot," AJ negotiated.
With a deep sigh, Harm agreed. "Okay, but don't expect much."
"Well, you better take a shower," AJ sighed. "Starts in an hour."
Harm willed himself into the shower, and to his surprise actually felt a good deal better afterwards. He scanned his closet for something to wear, and settled on a midnight blue banded collar shirt and Khaki slacks. With a final check in the mirror and a big, deep breath, he grabbed his keys and went out the door. He wasn't sure he was ready for this endeavor, but he was going to take it anyway.
Harm walked into the subdued room. It was held in the back room of a local tavern. He scanned the room and saw people from all walks of life, nearly an equal amount of men and women. He wasn't sure how to act, having been married so long, so he sat down near the end of one of the emptier tables after ordering a beer from the bar.
As Harm sat there and watched the people he was approached by a young woman. She was small, not more than 5'3" with curly hair so dark it looked black. Her eyes were nearly as penetrating a blue as his own, but there was nothing in her appearance to indicate happiness. "Excuse me," she said softly. "Do you have the time?"
"Uh, yeah, it's uh..." he stammered as he looked down at his watch. "Almost 1930." He couldn't help but notice how pretty she was.
She sighed and looked as if she might cry right there, "Two more hours."
"I sense that you'd rather not be here, huh?" asked Harm.
She shook her head, "I promised my sister that I'd try it."
"I made that promise to my friend," said Harm. "Seems this place if full of people here because of promises to others."
She gestured to the chair beside him, "May I?"
"Oh, of course," answered arm, rising from his seat to introduce himself. "I'm Harm, by the way."
"Analise," she replied. "Analise O' Conner."
"That's a very pretty name" said Harm. "Very different."
"So is Harm," she replied.
He smiled and blushed a little. "Yeah, I get that a lot, if you can believe that."
"So...what brings you here?" she asked. "I know you said a friend but...if you're here you have to be a parent without a partner so..." she blushed."I'm babbling."
He once more smiled. "It's okay. I'm here because I promised a friend I'd give it a try. He thinks eight months is long enough for me to wallow in misery."
"Eight months," she sighed. "Its only been six for me. Feels like a thousand years."
He nodded and played with the label on his beer bottle. "I understand that feeling. Whatever happened to the old adage of waiting a year after a divorce before looking for love again?"
"You're divorced?" Analise asked. "You seem...never mind."
"No, please," encouraged Harm. "I seem what? More like a widower than a divorcee?"
Analise nodded, "Yes. You...I can't do this," she blushed and her face fell.
He reached out a gentle hand and touched her forearm. "It's okay; tell me. You look like someone who needs a friendly ear, and I happen to have a couple."
She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "That's sweet but...I'd rather be home with my daughter."
He patted Analise's arm. "How old is she?"
"She's seventeen months," Analise replied. "She just started talking. Her first word was Dada."
"Seems to be a popular choice," said Harm. "My little girl is 6 and that was her first word, too."
Analise smiled, still fighting her battle with tears.
"You little one was less than a year old when you and your husband divorced then?" asked Harm.
Analise sniffled and shook her head. "We're not..."
Harm processed her reaction for a moment before it clicked: her husband hadn't divorced her, he had died. "Oh God, I'm...I'm sorry, how rude of me."
"It's not your fault," she replied. "You couldn't have known. That's why...I want to go home." She pushed back from the table. "I'm so sorry about this."
"Hey, hey, wait," he said, rising from his seat and reaching out for her. "Don't go. How about we take a little walk?"
Two wet, but beautiful blue eyes looked up, "Okay. Just a little one."
Harm and Analise stepped outside the tavern. He kept his hand behind her but not on her, incase she'd need to be guided or assisted. When the moonlight touched her face she looked so pretty, so vulnerable but pretty and sweet. Maybe this wasn't the worse idea AJ had ever had. "So you're divorced?" she asked after walking a few minutes.
"Yeah," he solemnly replied. "Long story short, I blew it."
"What happened?" she asked then gasped as her hand flew up. "I'm sorry, that's none of my business."
He was quiet for a moment. "My wife got sick, and I handled it completely wrong. She withdrew from me, I withdrew from her, and in the end I lost her. I wrecked the marriage because I didn't know how to cope with things."
"My husband was sick and he withdrew from me," Analise said softly. "Its hard, watching a loved one suffer. Not being able to help. It's so hard."
"It is," he answered softly. "Harder than just about anything on earth."
"May I ask what it was she had? Was it cancer?" She said it like a dirty word.
"No, no, it wasn't," he said. "Endometriosis. It was very severe."
"I've heard of that. I can be painful. One of my closet friends had it. She's clean now but it made her sick," Analise sighed. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."
"It was hell," he said. "Cost us a lot, everything almost."
"And your wife has custody of your daughter then?" Analise asked. "Or what?"
"Of both the kids," he answered. "We have a 4 year old son, DJ, too."
"How nice. My husband and I were trying when he got sick. I still want to have more babies but...that's a dream now," she sighed. "What about you? Did you want more children?"
"We did," he answered. "We wanted two more, but it never happened."
"I'm sorry," she frowned as they continued to walk.
They walked and talked until late into the night, each finding themselves at ease with the other. Harm told her all about his naval career and his family life, and Analise told him about her work as a physical therapist. As the minutes ticked away on the clock, the two let down their guard a bit at a time; very slowly but surely.
They circled a radius of about six blocks many times over until Analise sighed, "Its getting late. I have to get back to Maggie."
Harm glanced at his watch. "Yeah, I should probably head back, too. Before I do, though, could I..." His voice froze.
"Could you what?" she asked smiling. "Could you possibly look any more frightened than you do right now?"
He smiled and blushed. "Could I possibly have your number?" It'd been ages since he'd asked a girl that question.
Analise smiled, "And what would you do with that?"
"Well," he began. "We could get together and take the kids out for pizza."
"You'd want to see me again, after I watered all over you tonight?" she asked with a tiny smile.
"A little water never hurt anyone," he replied, flashing her his Flyboy smile for the first time.
That smile sent a chill through Analise as she reached into her purse and removed a tiny notebook and pen. On it she wrote her name and her phone number. "Here. I work the day shift, but I'm always home by four."
He took the paper, slid it into has pocket and said. "Four it is."