A/N: So, this is a rather dull little vignette that takes place in the "Gone" universe. One of the last reviews I got on that story was one that didn't like my characterizations of them and the fact that Mac was a weepy mess. I thought, dear lord she IS a weepy mess. Why the heck did I write her that way?! Then I looked back and reread some of the chapters—I found I still really liked the story and the Harm and Mac in it, but I thought I should have done more to describe why Mac was such a sad little thing—because egad, she cried so much she's probably permanently dehydrated. My thought behind it all was that she ran off before she could actually deal with anything. She never got closure, she didn't have anyone to help her get through it all, and she basically had to sweep all her experiences as Sarah MacKenzie under the carpet to become Samantha O'Hara. It was bound to come back and bite her in the six and eventually she'd just explode. So that's what happened…and here's a little blurb about it…

Vignette Four

Gone: Different People

"You coming to bed, Mac?"

Mac turned and gave her fiancé a soft smile. "In a minute." She faced the window once more, very shortly feeling Harm step up next to her. The two stood there in silence, Harm gazing out the window while Mac gazed down at the photograph in her hand, she wondering when Harm would ask her what was wrong. Truthfully, nothing really was. Tomorrow, she, Harm, Jace, and Nic would all be getting on a plane and flying home to Montana, which made her happy beyond measure. She was just feeling a little melancholy. Though she was happy with her life, living as Samantha O'Hara in Whitefish, MT wasn't what she would have imagined for herself a few years ago. She'd assumed she'd still be Sarah "Mac" MacKenzie, a marine and a lawyer, working side by side with her partner, Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. Oh, by now they probably would have moved on to separate postings; Harm had been offered a command in London prior to his retirement, and she'd probably be in San Diego or something like that. They probably wouldn't even write to each other because they'd each be busy with their own commands, and their friendship would have drifted away.

Of course, that's if they were still friends to begin with. Things had gone south in the months prior to her disappearing to Montana, and for over a year, she'd believed she'd never see him nor anyone else from JAG again. But he'd found her, he'd loved her and finally made her believe it, they'd had a baby together, and were engaged to be married. Life was funny like that. She wouldn't have had any of this if Paraguay hadn't happened. It didn't pay to dwell on what they might have had if Paraguay had gone differently.

Mac smiled to herself after a few more moments of silence passed. The old Harm would have pressed her, but this new, more sensitive version would generally let her talk when she was ready. There were, however, limits, and it wasn't long before Harm took in a deep breath signaling he felt she'd ruminated long enough.

"So…"

"So…"

"Anything wrong, Mac?"

"No, not really. Just thinking."

"About?"

"Oh, things."

"Maaac…" he said, the exasperation more obvious than usual in his tone. Mac decided to put him out of his misery.

"Well, I was packing up the last few knickknacks and I found this photo of us." She handed him the framed photo of the two of them in Afghanistan, when they were happy together as Commander Rabb and Lt. Colonel MacKenzie. "We were such different people then."

"Yeah, we were." Harm set the photograph on a box beside him and wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her head. "Does it bother you to see that picture? You've never said anything about it."

Mac thought about that or a moment. "No, not anymore. When I first got here, it did a bit. I mean, I was here in DC, near JAG without you, and all I had were bad memories of this place. When I saw that photo, I was reminded of all the good times before that and that was so terribly painful."

"And now?"

"And now, I can remember some of the good times without the pain."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah…"

"But?"

Mac sighed then took in a deep breath. "Harm? What happened to me?"

"What do you mean?"

"That picture…that's of somebody completely different. That woman is confident. She knows who she is. She isn't afraid of anything." Mac pulled away from Harm's embrace and softly padded to the couch, dodging boxes as she went. Only what they absolutely needed was left out, along with the larger pieces of furniture which included their bed, Jace's bassinet, the dining room table, and the couch she was now sitting on. It was strange to see everything packed up. Strange and a little sad. It was if the last bit of her past was slipping away, and she honestly didn't know what to think about that. She leaned back into the leather of Harm's old sofa, feeling the shift as Harm sat down beside her.

"That woman is still you, Mac."

Mac snorted. "Not hardly. That's Sarah MacKenzie, and I'm Samantha O'Hara."

"I'm not talking about names, sweetheart. Besides, you're still Mac to me. You're even Mac to Mary now."

"Yeah," Mac replied, punctuating it with a sniffle. Here she was, crying again, and it was with frustration that she swiped the tears away. "This is what I mean, Harm. Remember when we fought that night you didn't come home right after meeting with AJ? You told me I was always scared, that I couldn't handle life in the city."

Harm squirmed in obvious discomfort with the turn their conversation had taken. "Mac…I thought we'd…you know I'm sorry about all that."

"Oh, I know that, Harm." She ran her hand down his arm. "But you weren't wrong."

"Mac—"

"No, Harm. And it's okay. I am scared of everything here. I hate being here with all these people. Sometimes even in Whitefish during the busy times it gets a little overwhelming. Mary could always tell when I was feeling 'out of sorts' as she'd say. I mean, I really love working there and I honestly do like talking to all the people that come into the shop. They come from all over…some to ski, some to spend time in Glacier, or go huckleberry picking—"

"Huckleberry picking?"

"Oh, yeah…toward the end of July the berries are ready. People will go up the mountains aways and come back with them—I'll take you sometime—picking is pretty good about an hour and a half, two hours south of Whitefish."

Harm grinned. "I'd like that, Mac…but, you were saying?"

"Oh, yeah…sometimes the crowds got a bit much. I don't know what would set me off, really…but Mary always knew so she sent me into the back to work on orders or to inventory the antiques that came in. I mean, it had to be done anyway, but it always embarrassed me. Thankfully, I'd get over it all fairly quickly because, no matter what, it's so much quieter there. Here…like you said, a car backfires, sirens go off, horns honk, people shout…it takes me back to…to"

"Paraguay?"

Mac hung her head. "Yeah…and it's so ridiculous because that was over three years ago."

"Mac—"

"I can't handle anything anymore, Harm. You know I still have nightmares…it's like I'm still stuck in Paraguay and there are days when I close my eyes and I'm convinced I'll be back there when I open them. It isn't a constant thing, but it happens enough that it worries me. And then…the crying…all the goddamned crying."

"Mac, it's just been a rough time…"

"No, it hasn't."

"Well, you had to come here and then you had to stay here, Jace came early…"

"But it shouldn't have been that hard to be here. How many nights, Harm, did you find me crying out here? You must have thought I was so ungrateful." That had been a nagging fear of Mac's—that Harm would think she didn't appreciate everything he'd done for her. He'd opened his home to her, and she'd spent the nights here crying. He'd brought Nic here for her just to make her happy, and she'd spent the nights here crying. He'd given up his career for her, and here she was…crying. She'd cried more in the last three years than she had in her entire life, and it was embarrassing. She glanced over at Harm, nervous to see his expression when he didn't comment right away. She was surprised when he actually looked shocked.

"Mac…why would I ever think…no, Mac, of course I don't think you're ungrateful."

"Thanks, Harm. I really do appreciate everything you've done for me.

They were quiet for a moment, then Mac chuckled lightly.

"You know, I always loved being at your apartment, back when we worked on cases together. You'd always cook and then we'd sit at the table for hours working, but we also had so much fun—or at least I did."

"I remember. I always had fun too. Those were good days."

"Yes, they were. God, what happened to us? To me?" Mac hated bringing that up again, but she really did wonder where the marine in her had gone. "I pictured us here so many times over the years, doing more than just working on cases. I always thought we'd have our…first time here." She could feel herself blushing as she remembered some of the elaborate fantasies she'd created for them. "And then the last time I was here before I left for Montana…you were so…no, don't be sorry, Harm. That's water under the bridge but now this place is tainted for me like so many places in DC. JAG. Bud and Harriet's. I know I need to just get over it all, I do…but it's like I've lost all my coping skills. What happened?" She desperately wanted to hear his answer and he didn't keep her waiting.

"Mac…" Harm spoke carefully. "I think Paraguay happened. Everything that happened there opened up so many wounds, and not all of them were physical and not all of them came directly from Sadik."

Mac snorted. "Huh, wounds. I'd say I came out relatively unscathed while Webb nearly died and you lost so much. I'm so sorry, Harm. The guilt I have over that whole time…it's crushing, and I'll never be able to make it up to any of you."

"Mac, you don't need to be sorry anymore and please, please don't feel guilty. I have everything I want and though it tried, Paraguay didn't break us. But…Mac, you know you didn't come out unscathed. I almost think it was worse for you. You heard them torturing Webb. Sadik used every psychological trick in the book, and I should have recognized what was happening. I guess I was still reeling from my time in the brig, and when we got back, everything was a complete cluster. And Mac, you never dealt with what happened there. You ran away from it."

Mac felt like she'd been slapped. Those barely below the surface tears appeared again, and she stared at him, the hurt evident on her face. "Harm—"

Harm held up his hands, palms forward. "No, Mac…just hear me out. I'm not saying any of this to hurt you, I promise."

Mac sniffled. "Okay, Harm."

Harm smiled softly at her, then continued. "Like I said, you ran after Paraguay, and a large reason why is that we chased you away. It was unforgivable that we treated you the way we did. I know it was a trauma on top of trauma."

Harm paused to reach out and brush an errant tear aside, then cupped her cheek. She leaned into him, knowing he was right. "Yeah, I guess it was."

"No guess, Mac. I have no doubt in my mind you have PTSD."

Mac started to shake her head, but then her shoulders slumped in resignation. "Yeah…you know, intellectually, I understand that, but I still feel so pathetic so much of the time."

"I know. I wish you'd get counseling, Mac. I know we've talked about it."

They certainly had talked about counseling in the time they'd been together, but there was definitely an issue with that. The cause of most of her PTSD came from a mission that was classified. No one in Montana, much less Whitefish, possessed the security clearance to discuss the details of Paraguay. "Harm, you know as well as I do I can't discuss all of that with just anyone."

"I know. Mac, when you got back, were you even offered counseling through the CIA?"

"No. And I didn't feel right about calling Clay to ask about that when he was so terribly hurt."

"What about the admiral?"

Mac shook her head. "In retrospect, he knew something was wrong, but I left before I completely fell apart."

"What if you just talked about PTSD in general. Tell them you went through a horrible mission and because of that—"

"That would necessitate telling someone I'm not who I say I am."

"They have to keep everything confidential, don't they?"

"Yes…but…ugh…I don't know if…"

Harm suddenly sat up straighter. "Maybe you could still get counseling through the CIA. We could call Webb and arrange some sort of counseling over the phone?"

Mac mulled that idea for a moment. "Well, I guess that could work," she replied, but her tone and expression were doubtful.

"Well, at least think about it."

"I will, Harm." Mac played with the hem of her shirt for a moment, still not entirely satisfied with the PTSD argument.

"Mac, what are you thinking?" Harm asked with concern, taking her hand in his.

"Hmmmm," she answered absent mindedly.

"Mac…"

"Well, why is it though, when I'm so happy to be with you, to have Jace, and live in a place I fell in love with the moment I drove into town, that I'm still so…this way?"

"Because something inside you was so terribly hurt. Honestly, Mac, I've thought a lot about this. First, Paraguay—"

"Harm, I think it started before that—the whole Singer debacle that resulted in you being in the brig. What I felt and experienced there wasn't nearly as bad as what you felt, but it messed me up too."

Harm's expression shuttered for a moment, but then he nodded in agreement. "Yeah."

"Harm," she started. "Did you get any counseling after all of that?"

Harm blushed a little and his expression turned sheepish. "Uh, no, I didn't. I went from the brig to Paraguay, then lost my job for a while, then you were gone and I spent all that time trying to find you…I guess I never found the time."

"Would you do it now?"

Harm shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I'm feeling pretty good now. I've got you, Jace, and I get to live in a place I fell in love with the moment I drove into town." He smiled his full-wattage flyboy grin at her.

Mac shook her head. "That's everything I said, and yet I'm still damaged."

"Oh, Mac, you're not damaged."

"Well, I feel like I am."

Harm let go of Mac's hand and then wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Mac, I know you do, and I'm going to do my best to make things better for you. I think, Mac, that your self-esteem took a terrible blow. You went through everything that you did before Paraguay and during. When you got back, you had to face the horrible behavior of our colleagues and me. You blamed yourself for everything and we did nothing to make you feel otherwise. In fact, we made sure you couldn't feel otherwise. Then, after becoming nearly suicidal, you left and didn't get to face any of it. You never got any resolution, any closure. And now, somewhere in that brain of yours you keep trying to work it out, but it's hard to make headway and it spills out into tears. Then put coming to DC in the mix, it makes things that much worse. You said this place, even this apartment was tainted. I get it. I even agree with you. This hasn't felt like home in a long while, and you basically had to come here without being truly ready, because again…you weren't able to deal with everything in a healthy manner."

Mac pursed her lips. Harm was making some good points, but none or that made her feel any less weak.

"You still feel weak, don't you," Harm said a moment later as if reading her thoughts.

"I do. Something broke inside in Paraguay, and my self-esteem was never that great to begin with."

"I know. Just know that, to me, you're wonderful."

Mac rolled her eyes, but it was good naturedly. "Thanks, Harm. By the way, when did you get to be such a…such an expert on, well, feelings?"

This time it was Harm's turn to blush. "I, uh…well, after I found you, I couldn't quite understand why you did what you did…so I talked to Terri Coulter. I talked to a friend from high school who is a psychologist…I never told anyone I was asking about you; as far as they knew it was for a case. They pointed me in the right direction, and I read everything I could. I thought it was all about understanding and helping you, but it helped me too. Mac, after losing you once before, I was terrified to lose you again. I had to do everything I could to keep that from happening."

"Oh…well…okay, Harm."

"Just okay?"

"Yeah…it's just…why haven't we talked about this before?"

"I don't know…I guess maybe it seemed awkward to just throw that out there without any lead-in."

"Yeah, I suppose." Mac snuggled closer into Harm's side. "You know, it's not that I necessarily want to be Sarah MacKenzie again. I used to thrive on chaos and being her came with a lot of that. It took me a while, but I discovered I love peace too. Montana is peace. Jace is peace…you…well, as hard as it may be to believe, you, Harmon Rabb, Jr, are my peace too."

Harm leaned down and gave her a lingering kiss to the crown of her head. "You're my peace too, Mac."

Mac shifted around until she was sitting on Harm's lap. "I love you, Harm."

"I love you too, Mac. And Mac?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't ever feel you need to hide your tears from me. I think so much has happened to you from the time you were a kid until now and you've always felt you needed to be "strong." Something broke in Paraguay for sure; maybe it was just the dam holding all the pain back. Maybe you just need some time to release it all. Try not to see the crying as a bad thing. You're just trying to heal."

"Okay, Harm. I suppose we should be getting to bed. The movers will be here early you know, and Jace will be waking up in about—" She was interrupted by a wail from their son. "Now, apparently." She slid of Harm's lap and stood, pulling Harm up with her. She leaned up to kiss his lips, then went to feed their hungry son, feeling better about herself than she had for a while.

Harm watched his fiancée as she walked away from him, please to see her back straight and her shoulders proud. The woman really had been through a lot, and maybe if he could get her talking like this more often, she could put things to rest. He'd often thought, even before everything went sideways, that she had a lot of pain in her that could end up choking her if she kept it inside for too long. In effect, it had choked her, had choked the life out of Sarah MacKenzie. Samantha O'Hara had risen in her place, and though she was different, the essence of Mac was still there. He himself was a different man than he'd been a few years ago, and as he walked over and picked up the photo that had sparked their conversation, he found he didn't miss those two people as much as he'd thought he would. He was very fond of them, yes, but he found that this Harmon Rabb, the one who was the fiancé to Mac, the one who was the father of Harmon Jason Rabb the Third, was one he liked even more.

Harm put the picture in the last box and sealed it up, then went about turning off lights and preparing for his last night in DC. Who knew what the future held, but whatever it was, he was ready for it. Turning off the last light, Harm climbed the steps to his bedroom to join his soon-to-be wife and son.

End

A/N2: My girls and I just got back from visiting Montana and we did indeed go huckleberry picking. They grow in the wild so you have to sorta hunt for those places. It was very satisfying.