Chapter 3

Another month had passed and much to Mac's chagrin, she was still in Washington. She toyed with the idea of resigning yet again but that meant even less government clearance to find her missing former Commander. If obsession had a definition, her name would be written right next to it.

She just needed to know that he was alive and… and what? Tell him she still had feelings and that her marriage to Mic had been a colossal mistake? Could she tell Harm that he was right to hate the man and feel…whatever the hell his Spidey senses had been feeling all long.

What if they did speak? Could she let him go when the inevitable happened? Would it be enough to grant her atonement and the peace she ached for? Would she tell him that she loved him and ignite the embarrassment when Harm pushed her away once again?

An olive branch from Chegwidden came in the form of a TAD to San Diego and a case she'd been hand picked to investigate. It meant at least a week away from Washington and at three days in, Mac already felt like some of her old self had returned.

She figured it was the location. The sandy beaches and salty air that was so close to the VOQ Mac spent each night watching the sunset. It was almost therapeutic, a healing she needed until an early morning run had her bumping into someone she really didn't want to see.

Lost in thought, she took a corner too carelessly and wound up nearly missing a woman. Mac mostly crashed into a large canvas bag sending its contents onto the ground. "I am so so sorry, ma'am! This is my fault and if anything is broken I'll pay to replace it and-"

"Mac? Sarah MacKenzie?"

The Earth stopped spinning on its axis and possibly drifted off into space. Only that could explain the sudden shift and a wave of dizziness so pronounced that had her sitting on the pavement. She shook her head once, twice and closed her eyes so tightly Mac actually saw stars.

"Mac? Are you okay?"

The voice, while familiar, was not one she heard frequently. There'd been times when the woman had wanted to speak to her, insisting even if it was a few minutes of idle chit chat. Trish Burnet had a soothing way about her and Mac would by lying if she wasn't a little jealous that Harm had such a wonderful mother. She just wasn't expecting to run into her - literally.

"I'm fine Mrs. Burnett. Are you okay?"

The older woman was actually helping her stand and ignoring the items that were once in her bag and now were scattered on the ground. "You look like you're about to faint. Your skin is pale and clammy. When was the last time you ate?"

"I'm fine. Thinking of work is all. I'm fine." But she didn't feel fine and that damned dizziness wasn't abating either. "It was good to see you, say hello to Mr. Burnett."

Getting away would not come so easy, the woman had blocked her path and placed a hand on Mac's shoulder. "There's a cute little coffee shop down the street with a cheese danish that's to die for. And if you like French pressed, their Ethiopian is excellent."

"No…no thank you, I have to get back to work."

"But, its Saturday." Saturday? Yes, it was and Mac was planning to do nothing but sun on the beach while she went over testimonials. "I won't take no for an answer, Colonel."

Trish was not anything if not insistent which was why they wound up at an outdoor cafe, sitting in the corner under a maple tree. "You should have let me go home to change."

The older woman shook her head and grinned. "I'm not afraid of a little runner's sweat.

My husband, Frank, is a runner, and taught Harm everything that he knows."

Harm.

His name was mentioned often at JAG. Like she, no one could really let go of such a favorite officer. He was an idol to many, a mentor and to some, a friend. They just made sure to stop the conversation if she was involved because the Colonel had the foulest of moods if he was mentioned in her presence.

Mac zoned out as Trish began to ramble on about the menu pointing out healthier items on a smaller menu towards the back. Coffee was brought out and it was when her hand accidently hit the cup that she came out of her thoughts.

She grabbed a wad of napkins and began blotting the mess, thankful there was no sugar or cream mixed in. "God, I'm sorry…I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, my dear. Accidents do happen." Trish clumped the coffee soaked napkins towards the edge of the table and then dropped a hand over Mac's who was still cleaning up the mess. "Mac, stop. It was an accident."

"Why don't you hate me? Why are you being kind instead of blaming me for losing your son?" The words came out a breath above a whisper and cracked as she spoke. She inhaled sharply, cursing herself for speaking to Trish who might not have known her son was nowhere to be found.

"Why would you think I've lost my son?"

Mac sat back forcefully, her eyes finally making contact with Trish's who only stared quizzically. "Because no one knows where he is. Not even our mutual friend in the CIA and-"

"He doesn't want to be found." Trish announced matter-of-factly, her eyes squaring at the Marine who she knew had a large part in her son's so-called 'disappearance.'

"He's alive?"

"Mmm, very." Trish said with a nod after taking a sip of her coffee. "You need to try the danish, Sarah…May I call you Sarah?"

The World was spinning again, spinning like a top that would never fall over. Harm wasn't missing. He wasn't captured and was still very much alive. Had she been standing Mac's legs would have given out and even sitting in the booth she felt light headed.

Trish was speaking with her but the words never registered only sounded like a muffled, garbled mess that made no sense. She even poured Mac another cup of coffee before the Marine snapped back to the present.

"Where is he?"

"I can't tell you."

"Can't or won't?" Mac quickly grew irritated, especially when the older woman's lips curved into a half smile. Now she knew where Harm got certain coy expressions from and it wasn't his father.

"Can't. I'm actually not sure where he is." She sighed wistfully, tore a corner from the Danish on her plate and chewed thoughtfully. Mac drew on her intuition, that chill which ran down her spine that told her Trish was lying. "Your marriage to that Australian fellow really hurt him. I'd say it broke his heart and Harm has never been the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve."

"I didn't realize he had a heart I could break." She quickly stopped herself from saying anything hurtful and there was plenty that Mac had to say about the subject. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Trish, however, wasn't shocked or even the least bit surprised. Her son had a terrible record with the fairer sex, a fault she determined was a way to keep his heart safe. There were one or two semi-serious women, Renee being the only one she'd actually met and that poor woman was too in love to see that Harm would never offer more than his bed.

Mac fell in a different category, one that Trish understood at once despite her son's obliviousness. She was the one he always spoke about, the one he'd put on the phone just to say hi. The Marine was the woman he sometimes called her about when her actions struck a nerve. She knew about some of their exploits and how Mac had followed him to the ends of the Earth to find the truth that eluded them for years.

She tried steering her son towards the Marine although he'd claim that his feelings were platonic in nature. Trish saw through the lies he told himself until time ran out and Harm phoned to let her know that Mac was engaged to someone else.

"Actually, no. I'm not sorry. Harm has only seemed interested in me when I'm unavailable to him. Once I'm free, I'm just one of the guys, a friend who he expects will drop everything when he needs help… You said I broke his heart but you have no idea what he's done to me, how he's hurt me."

Like the night Mac ran to his apartment in hopes he would protect her from a past that came calling in the form of one Christopher Ragle. She needed her best friend, the person she trusted more than herself but he was too busy seducing a congresswoman.

"And yet you want to see him?"

Mac nodded slowly. "I have to see him. I have to apologize."

Trish tilted her head to the side, her expression pensive as she tried to make sense of it all. "Apologize for what? Moving on?" Off Mac's shrug Trish laughed slightly. "It's not easy to do but necessary to have a good life. Had I not moved on, I would have lost Frank, the real love of my life. Never apologize for doing what's right for you."

It pained Mac to hear those words which effectively cut Harm Sr. completely out of Trish's life. She wondered what would have happened had he still been alive. Would they still be married or would time have torn them apart? "You love him more than Harm's dad?"

"Don't ever tell Harm but, yes. I was a different woman when we married, young and naive. Maybe a little reckless and foolish to marry the first boy I had real feelings for."

"You weren't happy?"

Trish smiled sadly as the memories of what could have been flashed in her mind. "When we were together I was but, it's hard to stay happy when he'd leave for months on end."

The life of a pilot with a family wasn't an easy one and, sadly, the Rabb's paid the steepest price. "I knew marriage would be a mistake. I had doubts but when the man you really want doesn't feel the same way, you settle, I guess."

That's when Trish noticed the absence of a wedding band or the gaudy engagement ring she once spotted on the Marine during a quick trip to Washington. "You're separated?"

"Divorced."

Trish reached across the booth to cover the younger woman's hand with her own. She squeezed gently hoping to provide some comfort. "I'm sorry, Mac. I really am."

"You shouldn't be…I was stupid, desperate maybe. I was tired of being alone and-"

"Do you love my son?" The question came on suddenly and the hand still holding hers tightened. "Do you?"

"Yes." She shouldn't admit it so earnestly but it was almost impossible to lie to Trish. "I'm in love with him and I hate that I am."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not sure what he feels for me or if it's more than physical." She blushed at the thought because, even if he didn't love her, Mac would still spend a night with him.

Trish released her and settled back into her seat. She waited for the waitress to refill Mac's coffee and then leaned in. "I shouldn't give you this information but a mother's intuition is never wrong." She took a pen out of her purse and scribbled four words on a napkin. "It's not an address because I don't have that. But, it's a start."

'CB Logging.'

Mac read the words a few times, memorizing them before dumping the napkin into a glass of water so that it dissolved. She knew it wasn't meant for prying eyes and grinned as Trish chuckled. "You know him well."

"I know the circles we've run in and if he's involved with our friend Clay, it's usually clandestine."

Trish waved her off. "I don't want to know. He says he's safe and that's all I need. Now that that's settled…" She pushed Mac's plate a little closer. "Tell me if that's not the best cheese danish ever?"

Mac took the danish in her hand, its flakey crust breaking slightly as she bit down. The salty taste of cream cheese along with some sort of honey that was drizzled over the pastry exploded in her mouth. It really was the best cheese danish she'd ever had. "Wow."

Four Days Later

Hood River, Oregon

A flight from San Diego to Portland followed by an almost two hour drive ended at the entrance of a logging road. Mac had taken whatever leave she'd accumulated since their honeymoon along with several sick days Chegwidden gratefully allotted.

Of late, she wasn't the top dog at headquarters and any time away would be used to heal, or so she'd told her CO. There was no way for AJ to know that Mac was on the hunt for her former partner or that Trish's message had led her to the wilds of Oregon.

She didn't dare ask the older woman why her son had landed in logging country. To Mac it felt like a wild goose chase, a ruse to run her as far away from Harm as possible.

CB Logging did exist, however, and a quick chat with a young receptionist at the company's small office in Hood River landed her a name - 'David Elliott' who was currently with a crew clearing timber over rough terrain.

"Who's looking for him?" The young woman had asked, leery of giving directions to a stranger dressed in a Marine uniform.

It was stupid to wear it, Mac knew but she used it as a shroud of confidence, armor and a way to show authority. "His cousin, Sarah. I'm an officer in the Marines, been away for a long, long time. My aunt steered me this way. I just wanted to see him." The act was convincing and half an hour later, Mac was headed up the logging road with a borrowed truck and her heart in her throat.

She'd been at altitude before and was accustomed to scaling the walls of Red Rock Mesa to reach its hidden caves but the logging road was far more treacherous. As she ascended, massive haulers sped down some so overloaded it forced her to the very edge of the road.

It was a thirty minute climb, a white knuckle ride until she reached the work site where heavy machinery dragged log after log out of the woods. The operation worked like a choreographed dance of man and machine.

The clean scent of atmosphere and pine barely hung on amist the stench of diesel and burning oil. Equipment on the hill roared like an untamable beast as loggers scurried to get out of the way.

Run. Her mind screamed because this wasn't the place for a woman like her. Even the uniform, which Mac wore like armor, felt inadequate in such a setting. Yet she placed the vehicle in park behind a work truck and took a deep breath before stepping onto the road.

Mac's hands shook as she placed the cover on her head. The fresh pair of Oxford's became filthy in just five steps as did the hem of her slacks. Men on the landing didn't immediately notice her but once they did the leering and cat calls commenced.

She was accustomed to both and simply ignored the boisterous gents until she came up on a burly gentleman who was screaming obsenitings into a handheld radio. He leaned against a truck and by his appearance, Mac gathered the man was some sort of boss. "Excuse me, sir. I really hope you can help me."

"I really hope I can help you too, Colonel." The man's eyes zeroed in on her oak leaves after the initial shock of finding a woman on his landing quickly passed. He eyed her up and down, curious why a Marine had made the trek up his mountain.

"I'm looking for someone."

The man's face visibly blanched and after taking a deep breath, he folded his arms defensively. "Aren't you supposed to come with a chaplain?"

"Chaplain? Oh God, no. I'm not here to serve a casualty notification, I'm just looking for an old friend." She hadn't thought that her presence, in uniform, would bring work to a stop but it did. Some of the men began to gather around the piles of logs that were being stacked for extraction. "His name is David Elliott."

Even as she said the name, Mac felt like a fool. The alias just didn't suit her former partner and this mission was beginning to feel like a goose chase. For all her kindness, it was expected that Trish would protect her son and maybe, just maybe, this trip was a form of revenge.

"Oh yeah? Well, haven't seen him in ages…Look ma'am This is the first week of good weather we've had since starting the job and I don't need any of my men distracted."

"I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name?"

"Chris Bennings, but the boys call me CB..owner of CB Logging." He shook her hand that he held for a few breaths too long. "I was a Captain in the Corps once upon a time. Flew Hornets."

"Once a devil dog always a devil sog."

"Ooh-Rah, ma'am… give me your information and if I see David I'll contact you. Sorry I can't help but, as I said, we really are busy. Weather has kept us away from the mountain and we're real backed up. If I don't make my deadline the wood doesn't get down the hill and my boys are left without their money, understand?"

"I do, yes." Mac took a pen and paper CB offered

and scribbled down her cell phone number as well as the hotel she was staying at. It wasn't defeat per se because Mac's female intuition told her that CB was lying. She had no intention to drive down that mountain opting to sit in her truck in hopes to catch a glimpse of her former partner. "Thank you, Captain."

It was his laughter that made her stop. She knew that sound anywhere and the flip flop feeling in her stomach that she hadn't felt for years came to life. When Mac turned she expected to see a man she remembered, clean cut with short hair wearing some civilian attire. In her wildest dreams would she imagine the man her eyes focused on.

His hair was longer, enough that the ends stuck out in sweaty strands underneath the paint chipped orange hardhat he wore. There was also a beard, not thick or bushy but enough to cover his cheeks and some part of his neck where the coarse hair stretched into a cragly mess.

He was filthy, jeans held by suspenders were stained in mud and the light blue T-shirt he wore was equally dirty. The patches of skin Mac could see were darker from either extended sun exposure or the dirt that left a smudge above his right eye. God help her because despite the extreme change of his appearance, Mac still found him attractive.

"Harm." She whispered while willing her galloping heart to slow down. It ignored her command and even the butterflies she hadn't felt in years fluttered in her stomach.

"Well would you look at her." As more of the crew reached the landing, the cat calls continued but it was the man standing next to her former partner that made him notice the intruder. "Goddamn, if I'd known they made Marines like her I'd've enlisted."

"Marine? What Marine?" In one hand Harm carried a chainsaw and in the other a half-empty gallon of water that crashed to the ground the moment he saw her. The smile that was once spread across his lips flipped into a scowl. Eyes that were alive with mirth darkened and his expression turned somewhat murderous.

"No." His scorn wouldn't be contained when two tiny words spilled from his lips with enough poison to kill. "Not you."