Thank you for the reviews and for those who have stuck out this story. This chapter is pretty darn big I threw in there a lot of things that make no sense in other chapters and add added a few things I hope you'll catch.

The first part will be hard to read, have your bleach and anti-nausea meds ready.

I had the ending of this chapter written another way but it kind of made Harm look like an asshole and I didn't want that.

So enjoy...

Chapter 17 - Goodbyes

Mac's Apartment

Georgetown

Clayton Webb had learned to be a patient man. It was one of the gifts his mother instilled in him, that good things came to those who waited. It was a little rule that worked the same in life as it did in espionage and while the reckless approach had its merits, patience was everything.

When he walked into Mac's apartment that night, all of her things were where they should be. The woman was obsessively clean and tidy with nothing ever out of place. The throw hung on the back of her sofa, her coffee table books on dinosaurs and archeology were neatly stacked at an angle.

There was sparsely a speck of dust on her armoire that he dragged a finger over and her gun was also present in the secret shelf at the back. Locked and loaded, he found and promptly took one out of the chamber and reintroduced it to the magazine before placing the weapon back in its spot.

His warnings about her keeping the pistol chambered always fell on deaf ears and Clay made it a point to always unchamber it before leaving. It was an act that annoyed her but Webb assured Mac his concern was for her own good. "Oh, Sarah."

He turned and walked to the kitchen where he opened the fridge and paused. It was bare, with only a few bottles of water and two cans of ginger ale on the bottom shelf. There was no food, no condiments and the only other item was the yellow box of baking soda on the top shelf.

The cupboards were just as empty and only a few non perishables and spices sat neatly in their spot. He found it odd that during a one week vacation, anyone would leave their kitchen so empty.

Carefully, he checked each cupboard looking for…well, Clay wasn't really sure. He hated doubting her and was ashamed to be the kind of man that went around stalking women. But, Sarah had to understand that he was trying to keep her safe.

Rumors of Harm's death put him on high alert although the police report and subsequent investigation insured the former Commander had, indeed, died in a plane crash. He felt a tiny bit of guilt for the man's passing but knew that, after Sarah grieved, she'd need a shoulder to lean on, a new best friend. He could take Harm's place and be her everything if only the woman would give him a chance.

Calls to her cell phone went unanswered and any tracking died at the cabin in Townsend. The men he sent to Tennessee had mostly watched her well, even capturing images of the Marine and her aunt having dinner or the shots of Sarah in her little running shorts. He liked those best because when she stopped for a quick stretch, the shorts had risen up so that he caught a glimpse of her perfect ass.

Those damned shorts showed off the definition in her wonderful legs and he shamed himself for spending a night or two with that picture on his nightstand. The truth was that Clay wanted Sarah. He needed Sarah and up until her disappearance he'd ignored the gut instinct which hinted at Harm's death being faked.

She all but dropped off the face of the Earth almost a week prior and when a 'neighbor' asked about Mac's whereabouts, her aunt shrugged. She stated that the younger woman had a habit of taking camping gear and disappearing into the woods.

Of course he sent one of his men after her who came back two days later with a broken leg after being lost in the wilds of the Smokies. Webb was no closer to discovering her whereabouts; the idea to enter her apartment came into play.

In the past year he'd spent several evenings there, watching movies, sitting on the opposite side of the sofa from a woman that made it clear that she held zero romantic interests. Most of the time he invited himself in, insisting that Harm had gone manic and it was now his duty to protect her.

She argued, used her 'I'm a Marine' speech but with the right movie and dessert, Webb often won her over. He knew it was a matter of time until the gifts, the fancy dinners and the movies at her apartment led to more.

The one place he was never allowed was Mac's bedroom unless he needed to use the bathroom. There was never any time to stop and linger and take in the most intimate details of Sarah MacKenzie. As perverse as it was, Webb realized he had the time now - he had all of the time in the World.

He forced himself to walk calmly and not rush into the room. He would take his time to unravel Sarah's secrets and as he carefully pushed the door open, he quickly ignored his reflection on her full length mirror and focused on her bed.

A burgundy comforter was stretched out across the mattress along with an assortment of pillows that he never understood the point of. He imagined her laying on silk sheets, her hand between her thighs working herself up for him.

Sarah would be so delightful to fuck, he knew and imagined her mouth wrapping around him, teasing him. It made him hard to think of her and although he'd denied himself the satisfaction of getting off to a fantasy, his patience only ran so long.

The scent of her was all around him, the intoxicating blend that forced him to do lovesick things. He grabbed one of her pillows and held it to his face, inhaling as he jerked himself until he was spent. It was embarrassing that he came so fast but given that his injuries had left him unable to perform for months, it was also a blessing.

Webb fell back into her bed then, his body exhausted. He was always exhausted these days and when he stretched out across the mattress and made to touch himself again, he noticed a glass bottle that seemed out of place amongst the other three on her vanity.

Women's perfumes were always presented in dainty looking bottles with elegant curves and caps that were ornate. Men's cologne came in blockier receptacles and what's more, the one on the vanity resembled one that he wore.

Webb stood up in an instant, his fingers shaking as he wrapped around the bottle of expensive male fragrance. He removed the cap, took a whiff and the years of honing his spy senses made him realize who the bottle belonged to. Harm.

Of the million questions running through his head, the one that ran on repeat was: why? - Why would a woman who claimed to be scared of her past lover keep his scent around? Why was it on her vanity rather than shoved into some shelf or tossed in the garbage?

It was his gut that sent Webb back onto her bed, tossing the decorative pillows off until he got to the two beneath the sheets. One was fuller with a reddish pillowcase, the other was flatter, the case a pale gray. He brought it to his nose and breathed in the waning scent of expensive male cologne along with the scent of her.

Disgusted, he dropped the pillow imagining Sarah spraying it with the familiar fragrance and then curling up against it to sleep. She wasn't over Harm and it was likely that she would never be. This room, her sanctuary, had been violated by another man. A man who had fucked her on this very bed time and time again and left his scent as a reminder.

As usual, he was second best. Always second best and in a rage, Webb fisted the comforter and proceeded to tear the bed apart, stripping it of all the sheets, pillowcases and even the mattress cover. He grabbed the mattress by the edge, flipped it over and then dropped to the box spring when the breaking of glass - the lamp on one nightstand - made him realize what he'd done.

But that stupid bottle of cologne mocked him so he swept at it with the back of his hand and sent it flying into the nearest wall. It broke and shattered, the scent of another man was all around him, inescapably so.

He studied his handiwork and walked out the door, an anguished mess of a man. As he slipped into the driver's seat of his tiny sports car, he took a moment to stare up at her window. That nagging feeling came again, making him fear the worst. Maybe this time he'd learn to be a real man?

If Harmon Rabb Jr was dead, he'd help Sarah survive the grief. But if the man was still alive he'd pull the trigger and rid her World of him.

Harm and Mac's Houseboat

Lake of The Ozarks, Mo

The weather finally turned the following day but despite the sun gleaming off the lake, Mac didn't want to move from bed. She pulled Harm back under the covers, snuggling up close so that he wouldn't move - a feeble attempt to stop the day from rushing by too fast.

It was the last they would share in quite a while because tomorrow morning, Mac was heading back to Townsend and then home. Only home wasn't a home without him.

She'd return back to avoiding the advances of a man she was repulsed by. She'd also need to ramp up her efforts to find out more of his dealings and that meant that Mac would have to spend time with him. She'd have to go to his home, his sanctuary and hope some of his secrets were easy to unravel.

The thought of spending weeks or months or even another year constantly worrying about Harm terrified her. Off the grid he was able to hide in plain sight but she didn't quite trust MI6 or their reasons to destroy parts of the CIA. Harm was, indeed, a traitor of sorts and what pained her most was the outrageous step he took to live in the shadows.

She'd have to pretend to grieve his death, despite the faked break up. They were close friends once, best friends and some feelings had to remain. Mac figured her feigned sorrow would cause Webb to double his efforts and maybe tip his hand.

"Whatcha thinking?" His gravelly voice cut through her thoughts and she turned her head to see Harm laying on her pillow with his eyes closed. His beard needed a trim and as her fingers danced over his cheek, Harm's hand reached up to stop her.

"I want to see you clean shaven at some point."

"We talked about this."

He mostly avoided the subject of his scar after telling her how he acquired it. "I know. But, I want to see the man I fell in love with."

He popped an eye open and focused on her face. The woman was gorgeous even having just woken. Messy tendrils of hair fell over her face and Harm reached over to tuck a strand behind her ear. "I'm the same man, just scarred."

"Are you that afraid that I won't like what I see?" When he remained quiet, Mac let out a long sigh and then pressed her lips against the scar. "You're incredibly good looking, a beautiful man." He blushed at her admission and Mac brushed her lips over his. "But, I fell for the whole package, not just the wrapping."

"Okay. I promise, next time I see you, it's clean shaven."

"And you don't break promises."

"No, I don't."

The better weather and sunny skies allowed the pair to disembark and use the small beach attached to the abandoned cove. They walked along the shore when the water was too cold for swimming and rather than return to the houseboat for dinner, Harm brought out a small grill. Mac sat on the blanket he laid on the ground and watched him carefully cook the food until the beautiful grill marks appeared on each morsel. She smiled to herself, enjoying the domestic side he so readily showed.

From the inception of their partnership and even throughout the wild ride they'd endured, he always tried to take care of her. Today, he'd been especially patient and she knew he was already missing her the way she was missing him. They had dinner in silence that was somewhat comfortable given her departure was weighing over them like a ten ton anvil.

"I can hear you thinking." He said gently while she lay against him watching the gentle waves lap the shore.

"I wish I could stay." Mac sighed, The more the hours ticked away, the more apprehensive she felt about the return trip. Her Spidey senses had kicked into high alert all of a sudden and she didn't understand why. "It's peaceful here. I love the city but-"

Maybe it was the secret she still carried? One that she swore to give up the second Harm divulged where his allegiance lay. She wondered if he would forgive her or if it would turn into another cross she carried in life. But as the silence stretched between them and she turned to find Harm staring at the water, her resolve faltered.

Mac couldn't take him hating her, not now. They were engaged and thought a marriage seemed unlikely at the moment, it meant something. It meant everything.

"Could you see yourself living in that houseboat with me?" It needed some work when he bought it and all of the modern things he put in, the comfortable bed down to the pair of adirondack chairs, were purchased with Mac in mind. It was foolish to believe that she'd stay but damn had he wished for it.

"I think I can."

"But?"

Mac turned in his arms, let his hands slip from her as she sat cross legged. She bit her lower lip, wondering if the silly idea she had last night could work. Just like the they couldn't be stupid or hasty, just like their separation, this would be planned. "What if…what if I go back, just for a bit and then return?"

"What? For another few days?" He snorted. "That's not what I meant."

"It's a better alternative than spending another year apart, Harm."

He shook his head and swallowed. "And you know it won't work. Not with Spook Boy watching your every step. You'd have to fake your death, just like me." Her silence was deafening and although Harm the commitment that entailed, it still hurt that she didn't immediately agree. Holding back his feelings from her made sense now more than ever. "I assume you aren't ready for that."

She was chewing her lower lip again, caught between the desire to stay with him in hiding or keep their charade and continue her previous life. Death, even a falsified one, wasn't a price she was willing to pay, not yet. Not when she had her own duties to see through.

Mac looked out over the water that was now eerily calm, a sudden chill ran down her spine and when she turned to face Harm, she found he wasn't looking at her. "Harm-"

"It's okay, Mac. I'm not pushing you to do something you don't want."

"What I want is impossible. I can't turn back time."

Silence was often pleasant and needed. Mac often enjoyed the solace that came from spending time in a quiet apartment but as they collected their belongings and walked back to the vessel, the silence was unnerving.

She was sure Harm was upset and wasn't sure how to fix that situation. She imagined they would spend the early evening into the wee morning wrapped up in each other and not on seperate parts of the boat.

Harm claimed he needed to prepare the houseboat to head back into its berth but her gut told her it was an act of avoidance. She wouldn't push him but tomorrows 'goodbye' would rip her heart out if he was still indifferent. Funny how a few hours could change everything.

Mac was freshly showered and laying in bed when she heard him in the bathroom. Moments later he would pad into the bedroom with a fluffy towel wrapped low on his waist and his beard neatly trimmed. She took the time to admire his body, the ripple of abs, the soft peppering of hair and the 'V' that continued below the terry cloth.

She ignored the scars, his war wounds and instead dragged her eyes up to meet his. That fininite control was there and slipping as he took in her own attire, panties and an old shirt that was so faded, it did a poor job of hiding what was underneath. "I don't want to leave here with you mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you."

"Then come here." She opened his arms and wrapped them around his body when Harm dropped the towel and lowered himself into bed.

That night making love felt different, even more desperate since the last time they said goodbye. She was demanding, needy and as Harm drank from her Mac held him in place until she nearly blacked out from the intensity. When he filled her, his thrusts were relentless, almost punishing.

And then he reached for her again in the middle of the night, interrupting what would have been his nightly watch. He laid on his side, spooning her body against his. One hand came between her thighs, a finger slipping into her center that was drenched. He pumped the long digit in and out, stopped to roll his thumb over her clit with a slow and steady pressure while his mouth licked and sucked from her shoulder to her neck.

Mac was surprised he hadn't left when she heard the soft growl of an engine circling about. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

He did but they could wait. Harm had more pressing matters to attend to. He merely typed a message into a phone with a small keyboard and then tossed it back on the nightstand, forgotten for now. "I'd rather be with you."

This would be their final night together for only God knew how long. They'd already made love once and while he should have let Mac rest for the long journey home, the urge to touch her was overwhelming.

"Aww hell, Mac. You're gonna be the death of me." His hand stilled as she reached behind to grab him and her fist moved over his cock in a slow, steady motion. Mac tilted her hips, spread her legs a little and guided him into her core when the need to be filled made her center ache.

Eventually he'd turn them over, resting between her parted thighs, his length deep inside her. She saw the sadness in his eyes from the imminent separation and the bittersweet moment made a heavy ache settle across her heart.

Not again. They were breaking up again and all she could think of was a quick return that likely wouldn't come.

Her hands cupped his face, gently pulling Harm down for a kiss. "I can't stay. You know I can't stay. I'm sorry." She closed her eyes when he pulled out and thrust harder. His name was a plea from her lips and when he increased the pace and made her come again, Mac felt the tears slipping from her closed eyes.

In the morning Harm gave her space. He felt it best to let her shower alone, pack alone and do whatever girls needed to do - alone. Standing by and watching would make him feel like a stalker so he busied himself by driving the houseboat back to its berth.

Each foot that drew them closer to the marina felt like a death sentence - a dramatic sentiment but not one too far from the truth. Mac would return to her 'normal' life, the one she was considering trading for that of a dead woman who could live in this small houseboat with a man that loved her.

But she needed to return and reassure Webb that everything was alright. She would also have to face Harm's death and the fallout. Since he left the Navy, she highly doubted there would be a funeral with military honors or a missing man formation. From how ill Webb spoke of him, she knew he wouldn't even be a star on the wall.

The publicized drama of their breakup meant that their friends likely wouldn't care of his passing and that made her want to cry.

Would his mother reach out? Would she hate her for taking on an assignment that eventually led to this? What if Harm's warning over his fake death never reached his parents?

The more she thought the more the walls seemed to close in until Mac felt like screaming. Her heart raced a marathon in her chest and her head tightened as she raced out of the room and aft to the small porch at the rear.

She remained there gasping for breath as the vessel slowed its approach and the marina came into view.

"I forgot you hadn't brought much." Harm motioned with his chin at her backpack which rested at the foot of the sofa. Traveling covertly meant traveling light and the woman was an expert in shoving a zillion items of clothing in the smallest of packs. It was a Marine thing that he was terrible at.

"I didn't but you kept me naked half the time anyway." She grinned when he blushed, the tint on his cheeks making her stomach so that somersault thing.

"You can't blame me."

Mac took a sip from her coffee and squeezed the larger hand that held hers. While Harm had given her space as she packed, once she joined him for breakfast, they hadn't stopped touching each other. A brush of a hand here, a squeeze of her six, a gentle kiss there. It was so damned bittersweet and when Mac glanced at her backpack, a pang of regret made her heart ache.

She could stay. She should stay but the odds weren't in their favor. When her eyes met his, she found an intensity there she'd never seen. His blue eyes were almost pale and as he squeezed her hand back, his finger brushed over the hose clamp that served as a makeshift ring. "I want you to have your ring, your real ring. Not this."

Mac stared out through the windows, frowning to look past the docks to find her vehicle still parked in the distance. "I don't need a ring." Her thumb ran over the hose clamp he'd given her and despite it not being a precious stone, the gift was one of the most wonderful things she'd ever received. It was his symbol for love, fidelity and hope. No gold or diamonds could ever match those sentiments.

"Mac, you need to go get it before they do."

"They who? The CIA?"

"Yeah. It's probably gone by now anyway." He explained the likelihood of the CIA tossing his apartment and destroying the few material possessions that held an emotional connection, all in effort to discover his whereabouts. He'd seen how reckless a recovery team could he and imagined his most priceless possessions: pictures, his father's tapes and yes, her ring, being taken or destroyed. "And there's something else. Something of real value."

"What?"

He leaned in to whisper as if someone was listening and then hesitated for a moment. A small part of him questioned her fidelity, the other parts had been at war since she arrived. Ultimately, he decided to ask her the one thing that would likely get her in trouble: "Cash. A lot of cash. 100K in US currency and about 25 in mixed currencies."

There were also passports, he explained. One for each of his four aliases and even a set he had made exclusively for her should Mac need to disappear. "They are all in a soft sided case in a hidden compartment beneath the third step of my bedroom."

Mac's hand slipped out of his and she curiously watched him draw the steps on a paper and showed her where the access point was. Her head began to spin.

"You'll hear a click and-"

"I'm being watched all the time and you expect me to just waltz into your apartment and grab the cash?"

Her tone was harsh and made him wince. For a second Harm just stared at her feeling like a complete ass. Mac didn't need to be involved in his mess but she was the only person he fully trusted.

The risk that she'd take wasn't insurmountable which was why he placed a small case on the kitchen bar and popped it open. Inside was a kit that could change her appearance just enough to be inconspicuous."They won't know it's you." Harm stood and rushed to one of the cabinets retrieving a small bag that contained a kit which could change her appearance just enough to be inconspicuous.

Mac saw a wig or maybe two. There were some facial prosthetics and even a full beard, items that could make her look like a man if needed. She didn't begin to understand how exactly any of it was applied when he excitedly explained a few tactics, she placed a hand on his arm to stop Harm's rambling. "I can't do that, Harm. I want to help but-"

His disappointment was evident and considering there were few Harm truly trusted. This would be a setback.

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're right…I'm sorry. You don't have to do this. I'm not forcing you. They've probably ransacked the place already." And if they found that bag, all hope would crumble. It was all he had left without taping into traceable bank accounts or readily asking MI6 for currency. It was his back up plan, a method to start over at any corner of the World he chose.

Mac suddenly felt guilty. She was guilty of putting him here, guilty of not stopping their stupid break up and guilty of not readily accepting to disappear in the Ozarks with him. This she could do and it might even add a little fun to her normally abysmal existence without him."You know, I can go during work when everyone knows I'm there. Spook Boy won't expect me to just walk out and-"

"Mac, never mind. You're right, it's too dangerous and I'll kill myself if anything ever happened to you." He meant to grab the kit but Mac's hands were faster. "Mac-"

"I'll do it. I'll go. For you, I'll go. I think I have just the place to stash the money."

His head tilted slightly taking in her wide eyes and the rush of excitement Mac was suddenly filled with. He knew the thrill, the adrenaline and was a junkie to the game which was why the idea of working for Central Intelligence appealed to him at first. "I mean it, Mac. I'm not forcing you."

"I know." But she would still do this for him.

Mac had stalled long enough, taking her time finishing her food, helping him with dishes and checking the meager items in her backpack. She even made sure her pistol was loaded and an extra magazine was easily accessible. "It's time."

Hard rain had stopped her from leaving sooner but once it simmered down to a light mist, she grabbed the keys and shouldered her backpack. Her eyes scanned the quaint houseboat once more and then stopped at the man standing in her way holding a small bag he'd prepared for her.

"This will never get easy will it?"

"No. Even when we worked together and you left, it stung."

Harm nodded, having weathered his own lonely nights without her. "Drive safe and please call me."

"I will." They shared many kisses but never one that felt so anguished as this. Mac knew they were in for another slew of long months with little contact but now she carried the burden of the task he'd given her. When he cupped her face in his hands and drew her closer, she expected Harm to say the words but he didn't. He still couldn't. "Don't follow, if you do I'll never leave."

Maybe that made it easier to turn away from him after one last kiss? Or maybe it was the secret that she hadn't the guts to tell him? As she slid into the truck and waved goodbye Mac knew part of her heart would always be with him even if she had yet to decide its course.