Chapter Three:
Tying the Knot

APRIL 18TH, 1998

1030 EST
MAC'S HAIR SALON
GEORGETOWN

Mac had been going to the same hair salon since she'd moved to DC. And she'd developed a routine, much like she did with everything else in her life. All of her appointments were always exactly five weeks apart. Every time she requested Janice, because Janice talked so much, Mac rarely had to contribute anything to the conversation. And finally, when it came to the business of Mac's hair, she always just got a trim, maybe some light brown highlights if she was feeling frisky. There was only so much she could do when it came to following Corps regulation for hair, plus Mac liked her hair the way it was.

Everyone in the salon knew that, too. So when Mac announced to Janice that she wanted to go blonde (and get some extensions too, if that was possible), Janice dropped her comb, for once being completely speechless. The entire salon fell silent as well, because it was absolutely unheard of for Janice to ever be rendered speechless by anything.

Mac looked at everyone innocently. "What?" she asked, looking at Janice through the mirror.

"You-did I hear you right?" Janice asked, hastily bending down to pick up her comb.

"Um, yes," Mac said, suddenly feeling rather insecure about her decision, before realizing that it wasn't really her decision - the decision had been made for her, by Webb of all people. She ran a hand through her bob, mourning the fact that this would be the last time she'd be brunette for awhile.

"I'd like to go blonde," Mac tried to give her most convincing smile but it fell flat, coming out more like a grimace.

"Honey," Janice hastily picked her comb up from the ground. "Is this about a man?"

Mac bit her lip. This mission was supposedly top secret, even though the Admiral, Bud, and Harriet knew about it (Harm and Mac needed their fake wedding to look realistic - they needed witnesses), but Mac figured that Janice knowing the truth was a little…much. Especially since Janice loved to talk. The last thing Mac needed on top of all of this was her favorite hairdresser getting taken out by the CIA.

"Yes," Mac said, deciding to feed into whatever Janice wanted to believe. She frowned and nodded, hoping some tears would come too - though she'd never been good at fake crying. "It is about a guy."

Janice gasped, placing her hands on Mac's shoulders. "Oh my God, don't tell me you and Dalton broke up?"

Mac nodded, giving a convincing sniffle. "Yes, we did."

He also got shot and died in my arms, but that's a whole other thing.

"Oh honey, I'm so sorry," Janice said, running her fingers through Mac's hair and fluffing it.

"It's okay, really," Mac said, gesturing to her hair, which was not significantly fluffed than it had been. "I'm coping. This is me…coping…"

Suddenly, Mac took one look at her hair, her brown bob that she loved so dearly, and realized she was going to have to say goodbye to it in the next few minutes. That made her actually want to cry.

THAT SAME TIME
APARTMENT OF HARMON RABB JR
WASHINGTON DC

That morning was a nice full circle moment for Bud and Harm. A few weeks ago they had gone and gotten their dress whites fitted for Bud's wedding, and now they were together again. It was Bud's duty as best man for Harm's fake wedding to help him raid his closet and try and find a suit that was wedding worthy. It could've been a nice bonding experience for the two of them if it wasn't so stressful.

"Sir, it would make things easier if we knew the dress code," Bud said as he rifled through a row of Hawaiian shirts hanging towards the back of Harm's closet. They were all gifts from Keeter, and none of them had been worn.

Harm huffed. "I don't know, Bud. It's a wedding."

"Would the Major know what the dress code is, sir?"

"No," Harm placed his hands on his hips. He looked down at the heaps and heaps of clothing surrounding him. Up until today he had no idea he even owned this much clothing. "Webb would know, though."

Bud frowned. "I don't have his phone number, sir."

"Of course you don't," Harm grumbled, running his fingers through his hair. "That would ruin the point of him being a spy if people could get ahold of him easily."

Being in the military, it had become easy for Harm to neglect his civilian wardrobe, because most days required him to wear a uniform. The last time he'd purchased a suit was….prom? He couldn't exactly remember.

I could always call Mom and see if she could mail that to me, Harm thought ruefully, she would be easier to get in contact with than Webb.

Bud was watching Harm with wide eyes. He had never seen the Commander this stressed before. It was almost as though he and the Major were actually getting married that night. "You could try renting a tux, sir," Bud offered hopefully.

Harm pursed his lips. "That's true," he said. "It's either that or we postpone the wedding," he looked down at the small mountain range of clothing that littered his bedroom floor.

"I have nothing to wear."

Nothing that's good enough to marry Mac in, Harm caught himself thinking - he almost said it aloud before stopping himself. Quickly, he had to remind himself that he wasn't actually marrying Mac, and that she wasn't actually marrying him. Derek and Cheryl were getting married; Harm and Mac just had the privilege of playing dress up as them. Even still, that didn't give Harm the excuse to show up to the ceremony in a Hawaiian shirt and basketball shorts, the two non-military clothing items that made up the bulk of his wardrobe.

1730 EST
APARTMENT OF SARAH MACKENZIE
GEORGETOWN

When Harriet walked into Mac's bedroom and saw the back of her newly-blonde head and the silhouette of her borrowed wedding gown (Webb had pulled some strings with some CIA connections he had) it felt like she was looking in some warped crystal ball. As far as Bud and Harriet's wedding went, things were coming down to the wire. The wedding was only a little over a month away, and the stress was really starting to eat at Harriet. It didn't help that her mother was calling her everyday (sometimes, on a bad day, she called more than once) with a new list prepared of things to nag about.

However, Harriet would admit, helping Mac play bridal dress up for a few hours did provide a nice distraction. Weddings were a lot more fun when you weren't the one getting married- the stakes were considerably lower.

"Are you excited, ma'am?" Harriet asked. She lifted the lid off the box that held Mac's (who was really Cheryl - Harriet was having trouble keeping track of that) veil - another CIA loaner.

Mac tucked a sandy lock of hair behind one ear and turned around. "I'm not actually getting married, Harriet."

"I know, but Cheryl is, and technically you're her," Harriet responded with a shrug.

Sighing, Mac turned around and took another look at herself in the mirror. Her hair was somewhat fried from the bleach, a price she'd had to pay for going from a dark brunette to a sandy blonde in one session, but overall it didn't look terrible. The extensions, which weren't damaged because they weren't Mac's real hair, made up for the damage her real hair had suffered. Was it her best look? No, but Mac had to believe that she was at least somewhat pulling it off. It was either that or she quit right there on the spot, the five thousand dollars be damned.

The dress also wasn't something Mac would've picked out for herself, either. That shouldn't have come as a surprise, because Mac already knew that her and Cheryl Houston were complete polar opposites, something that Webb must've done to her on purpose - out of spite for something, surely.

She looked like the bride figurine on a stereotypical wedding topper. The dress had puffy sleeves with a form fitting bodice, along with a gigantic skirt that flared out at Mac's waist. It was a lot heavier than Mac was expecting it to be, too - she now understood why she would need someone to hold her skirts up while she peed.

The most concerning thing about the dress was a stain on the inside of it, near the zipper. It was pink, but it looked suspiciously like it used to be red. Mac had demanded to know whether or not it was blood, but Webb didn't say anything.

Isn't that the saying? she thought ruefully as she touched up her eyeshadow. Something old, something new, something borrowed, something…red?

"Do you want the veil on now or later?" Harriet asked, holding it up to the light and smoothing out the creases.

"Ummm…" Mac bit her lip. She was beginning to wonder if it was possible to be a runaway bride to a wedding that wasn't even real. "What time is it?"

Harriet paused, the question catching her off guard. Mac never asked for the time because she always knew the time. She checked her watch. "It's 1742. And the ceremony is in-"

"Seventy-eight minutes."

"Right. It's at seven."

Mac nodded, looking back at her reflection. Growing up, she had never been the kind of little girl who liked to play house. It wasn't for a lack of her being a 'girly girl' - she loved the color pink when she was younger, and it was running joke between her and herself (she didn't still talk to anyone else from her childhood) that she was a girly girl who grew up into a tomboy, instead of the opposite which, in Mac's opinion, was more common.

Since she grew up in the house that she grew up in, why on earth would she have ever wanted to play house?

Marriage was also something that Mac never thought would happen for her. None of the guys she'd ever dated had felt like they'd be the one. Except for Chris apparently, but Mac liked to act as though that marriage had never happened. She'd made a lot of poor decisions in her youth, that one being one of the poorest.

Dalton could've been the one, but she would never know because he was dead. Seeing the faded stain on the dress that she knew was blood - the only thing she could think about was that night. The blood seeping out of his dress shirt and covering her sweater, watching the light leave his eyes-

"So, have you been practicing your accent?" Harriet asked brightly, dragging Mac away from her dark thoughts.

"Ummm…" Mac bit her lip. "Yes?"

That wasn't a lie. She had been practicing her Southern accent; she just didn't want anyone to hear it. Ever. Harm was the one who had taken theater in high school, not Mac.

"Oh! Can I hear it?"

"No!" Mac replied quickly. Harriet's eyes widened.

"Sorry…it's just not that good."

"Well the Commander's the one that took theater in high school, not you, ma'am."

Mac sighed. "I know, Harriet."

Harriet walked over to Mac, veil in hand. Mac walked over to the vanity and sat down, looking into the mirror to see someone she didn't recognize. Harriet smiled as she draped the veil over Mac's shoulders, making sure it was in the perfect position before pinning it in.

She smiled. "If it's any consolation, ma'am, you look beautiful."

"Thanks."

Harriet turned around to fetch her own dress from its garment bag when Mac suddenly cursed. Harriet whirled around, worried that the veil had accidentally gotten pinned the wrong way, or that something else equally terrible had happened.

"What's wrong?" Harriet asked as she rushed back over.

Mac sighed and looked up at her. "I need to pee," she said. "Can you come to the bathroom with me to hold up my skirts?"

1930 EST
HOME OF ADMIRAL CHEGWIDDEN
RESTON, VIRGINA

The Admiral was okay with Rabb and Mackenzie getting roped into Webb's shenanigans, but he drew the line when he had to get roped into them. Or at least he tried to draw that line - unfortunately for the Admiral, Webb already had him roped in without even realizing it.

"I'm not putting that on."

"I'm afraid you have to, Admiral. There's no one else that can do this."

The Admiral frowned. "Are Mackenzie and Rabb's costumes this ridiculous?"

"It's a fake wedding, not a Halloween party" Webb corrected indignantly. "All you have to do is read off this script."

Webb pulled a large Bible out of a shopping bag and passed it to the Admiral. AJ took the impossibly heavy book and noticed a page was bookmarked. He looked up at Webb with raised eyebrows. "I don't go to church," he said.

"I know, just look at the page and stop asking questions."

As he opened the book, AJ paused. "Wait a minute," he said. "How do you know I don't go to church?"

Webb shrugged. "Comes with the line of work."

On the bookmarked page there was a printed speech pasted in over the scripture. AJ squinted, bringing the book closer to get a better look. The text was very tiny.

"It's a basic wedding officiant speech. Just follow along to that and you'll be fine," Webb explained.

"It's not the speech I'm worried about," AJ replied. "It's that."

He gestured over to his bed, where Webb had laid out a black pants, a black collared shirt, and a white clerical collar.

"I'm not a priest, Webb."

"But you can be," Webb gave him an encouraging smile. "Just for one night."

AJ's frown deepened. He wasn't buying it. Not in the slightest. "I never wanted to be a priest, not even for one night."

"Too bad," Webb reached into the shopping bag and pulled out something else. It was floppy and resembled a fuzzy gray caterpillar. "You also have to wear this."

"What is-"

"A mustache."

"You've got to be joking."

"I'm not, I promise."

Meanwhile, Mac was sitting on the stoop in the Admiral's backyard, having just as much of a bad time. She had to pee again, but she was trying to ignore it. She had her knees drawn up to her chest, which basically meant there was a full skirt of taffeta and satin suffocating her, and she was sitting on a towel so her dress wouldn't get messed up sitting on the porch step. She hated how much of a process sitting was now.

"You shouldn't be out here all by yourself, you know. It's your big day."

Mac looked over her shoulder and smirked. "You know it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding, right?"

Harm walked to the edge of the porch. He gave her a wry look. "I thought you were the one that was harping about this all being fake?"

"I don't know, don't you think we should at least try and commit to it?" Mac asked with a shrug. She gathered up a portion of her skirts and pulled them to the side, making just enough room for Harm to join her on the step.

"I guess," Harm sat down next to her, trying to ignore how the hem of his pants rode up to reveal his socks. He was finally able to find a tux, but it just so happened to be a smidge too small. Blaming it on Webb made him feel better about it, though.

"I like your suit."

"I like your dress," Harm gently draped Mac's skirts over his legs, giving her some room to breathe and his exposed ankles some warmth. "Speaking of committing, how's your accent coming along?"

Mac instantly blushed. "Come on," Harm told her. "It can't be that bad."

Taking a deep breath, Mac finally spoke. "Oh bless my heart, I am just so tickled pink to be marrying you, honey bun."

Harm laughed, and Mac, still blushing fiercely, swatted his arm. "What?" Harm asked, rubbing his arm in the place where Mac hit it. The soft blow had hurt more than he'd expected it would. "I'm laughing because I like it. It's cute."

"It feels ridiculous."

"Isn't all of this ridiculous?"

They sat in silence for a few moments, watching the sun set behind the backyard fence. "Do you think you'll ever do this for real?" Mac asked, looking down at her left hand. To put the icing on the cake, Webb had gotten them fake engagement bands. "Get married?"

Harm shrugged. "Maybe," he replied, looking up at the dusky sky. "I haven't ruled it out yet. What about you?"

"I don't know, I kind of have."

"What?" Harm looked at her in mock disbelief. "You don't want to get married? You don't want to put on a big fluffy gown, stand up in front of all your friends and family and talk about love? No," he shook his head. "I never would have guessed you would be been anti-marriage."

Mac rolled her eyes. "It's not that I don't like marriage, I just don't think it's going to happen for me."

"Come on, you're a catch. I wouldn't be fake-marrying you if you weren't."

"Thank you," Mac said with a small smile. "It means a lot that you're fake-marrying me."

Harm wrapped an arm around Mac's waist, rubbing her upper arm. "It's getting cold out here," he said. "Let's say we head inside and get this over with?"

"Shouldn't we kiss first?"

"What?" Harm blinked. "We kiss at the end, though."

"Yeah, but shouldn't we practice?" Mac asked. "So it'll look like the real thing once we get down to Richmond?"

"Do you just want to kiss me?" Harm asked teasingly. "Because all you had to do was ask."

"You haven't turned me down yet, so I think you might want to kiss me."

Harm leaned in, gently pressing his forehead against Mac's. "Do you want to fake-kiss for our fake wedding?" he asked, which made Mac laugh.

"Sure. I'll fake-kiss you."

When Mac felt Harm's lips on hers, her heart almost stopped beating. This wasn't the first time they had kissed, but this was probably the best kiss they'd had so far. It was painfully short though, partly due to a certain someone interrupting them.

"What are you two doing?" Webb demanded, knocking on the porch railing to get their attention. "We're twenty minutes behind schedule," he frowned. "And you're not even supposed to kiss until the end of the ceremony, anyway."

Harm and Mac pulled away and looked at each other. It was time for them to get married. Well, it was time for Derek and Cheryl to get married - Harm and Mac were only along for the ride.

Awww! Look at that! A ray of Harm/Mac fluff in a world of Harm/Mac angst! I couldn't have too much fluff all at once, though - had to have Webb come and do what he does best: ruin things.

Thanks for reading!

-Harper