HARM'S APARTMENT
Harm packed automatically - blindly tossing items in his overnight bag. He's
been on so many trips that he knew what he needed to pack without even thinking
about it. Sometimes he wondered why he didn't just keep a bag packed and ready
to go at all times. You would have thought that he would have learned that, if
nothing else, after sixteen years as a Naval officer and four years at
Annapolis.
"Do you have anything to pick up?"

"I'm a Marine, Harm. First to go. We always keep a packed bag in the car."

"I guess that's the difference between sailors and Marines. I keep golf clubs
in my car."

He shook his head, trying to banish the memory. Memories. They had become the
bane of his existence the last few weeks, ever since that damned engagement
party. It was like a floodgate had been opened - everywhere he turned, he was
haunted by her face, by the way things used to be between them, by what would
now never be. In three days, she would become Mrs. Mic Brumby and apparently
nothing was going to stop that now. Not even what had happened between them
that night - what was continuing to happen between them - was apparently enough
to cause Mac to turn her back on the arrogant Australian.

He should have run in the other direction after that kiss on the Admiral's
porch. By her words as they'd broke apart, it seemed that she had clearly meant
it as some sort of goodbye, a farewell to what might have been. She'd even
tried to pull away at first, before he'd pulled her back and they'd both lost
themselves for an all-too-brief moment in the hint of what could have been. But
as they'd stood side by side as Harriet's promotion was announced, their hands
brushing, he'd realized that there was no way he could run from this, not
anymore.

As he'd told her, the thing he wanted most was to never lose her, even if the
only way he could have her now was only as a friend. And as he'd walked into
JAG that Monday morning after the party, that was precisely what he had feared
would happen. He had been afraid that she would be the one to run - away from
him and from the feelings swirling between them which had finally surfaced. He
had nearly frozen in place as he'd gone to the kitchen for his morning cup of
coffee, finding her already in the kitchen, emptying a packet of sugar into her
mug. He'd watched her for a moment, debating whether to go in there and face
head on whatever might happen or turn and head for his office until the coast
was clear and he was safe from everything that he was afraid of.

The decision ended up being taken out of his hands when she had turned around,
coffee in hand, and had seen him standing in the doorway. Then the most amazing
thing had happened. She'd smiled at him and said 'Good morning', just like it
was any another morning. Smiling and greeting her in return, he'd entered the
kitchen and set about preparing his own beverage. As he'd turned back to his
mug after replacing the carafe in the coffee maker, his arm had accidentally
brushed against hers. He didn't remember her being that close to him when he'd
poured his coffee. Had she been closer than he'd thought she was? Or had she
moved closer to him, driven by the same need to be near him which he was trying
to quash in himself?

From there, the ice had been broken. Whenever they ended up together, they
seemed to always end up touching. Maybe it was just his hand on her arm,
wanting to point something out to her. Or her arm brushing against his,
lingering just a little bit longer than necessary as she handed him a piece of
paper in the weekly staff meeting. Or a congratulatory pat on the shoulder
after a hard-fought win in court. But for the diamond glaring brightly from her
left hand, soon to be joined by a band of gold, it was as if time had finally
been turned back - before his return to flying, before Sydney, before Mic,
before Renee, before all the other little things that had conspired to tear them
apart.

But their kiss in the courtyard today - that had come out of nowhere. Or maybe
it had been inevitable, the only logical result of their renewed closeness, both
physical and emotional. Harm couldn't decide which it was. Maybe they should
have run from each other. If it could happen once - as it had on the Admiral's
porch - then surely it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that it could
happen again. But they couldn't have predicted how that simple kiss could spin
so quickly out of control, could they? How were they to know that it would only
be the uniforms they wore and the fact that they were in a public setting that
would serve to prevent them from giving themselves up to the desire and need
which was flaring up between them.

It went against everything he believed in, the honor which had been instilled in
him as an officer and a gentleman. But there were some things that even the
most stringent military discipline couldn't control or contain and, God help
them both, this appeared to be one of them. Sometimes he wished that what she
had once accused him of had been true, that he looked at her and saw Diane.
Then it would be easier to convince himself that he shouldn't want her,
shouldn't desire her, that his emotions only stemmed from her resemblance to his
lost love and that it wasn't enough to risk everything over and not fair to any
of them.

"Hey, Sailor," Renee said, wrapping her arms around him from behind. Harm
tensed slightly, having not even heard her come in. "I wasn't expecting you to
be home so early. I thought I'd be here waiting for you. . . ." Harm stepped
to the side, out of her arms, and Renee got a good look at the open travel bag
on his bed. "Where are you going?"

"Remember, I told you my carrier quals were coming up," he reminded her. "I
just got my orders this morning. I report to the Patrick Henry tomorrow
morning. I'm catching a helo out of Norfolk."

"Well, can't you delay?" she asked, a slight pout on her face, waving her hand
as if dismissing his orders. "I mean, Mac's wedding is Saturday." Truth be
told, Renee was desperate for the two of them to attend the wedding. She wanted
Harm to watch as Mac pledged her life and love to another man and hoped that the
finality of that action would finally push Harm where she wanted him to go -
completely and absolutely hers. Once Mac was forever out of his reach, then
surely it would be easier to convince him to give her the miracle she wanted.

Harm sighed inwardly. He knew why she had brought the wedding up. She'd
certainly been dropping enough hints over the last few months. Hell, she'd even
admitted that she was counting the days until the wedding, right after she'd
pressed him about his feelings for Mac and he'd sidestepped the issue. But he
couldn't bring himself to care right now. Maybe it was harsh, considering that
he'd been involved with her for a year and a half, but his heart was firmly in
the grasp of one Sarah Mackenzie and after the party, he could not run from that
any more. "Renee, I'll be back in time for the wedding," he said with a
patience that he didn't really feel. "I spoke to Mac earlier and she pointed
out the same thing and I promised to be back in time."

"Oh," Renee said, managing to mask her irritation. The woman was getting
married in three days, but she was the one who managed to extract a promise from
Harm to return in time for the wedding. Renee had the feeling deep down that if
she had asked him to return to escort her to the wedding, he would have come up
with at least a dozen reasons why he wouldn't make it back in time. Time to
change the topic and remind him that *she* was the one in his life. "So what do
you want to do this afternoon? I managed to clear my schedule so that I could
surprise you when you got off work but it's still a little early for the dinner
reservations that I made for us, so I'm flexible." She wrapped her arms around
him again and let her hands roam freely, giving him a very good idea of what she
wanted to do.

Harm extricated himself from her embrace, momentarily haunted by another woman,
another embrace - one that he hadn't wanted to let go of. He could almost see
the electricity sparking when Mac touched him. With Renee, although it felt
pleasant enough, he didn't have the sense that he'd starve if he never felt her
touch again. He zipped up his bag and carried it over to the door. "Renee, I'm
leaving on a helo first thing in the morning from a base three hours away," he
pointed out. He dropped the bag on the floor under the coat rack and turned to
face her, not really surprised that the pout was still present on her face. It
was an emotion that she was very good at and liked to trot out every time his
job took him away from her. "I'm driving down to Norfolk tonight. In fact, I
was planning to leave as soon as I called you to let you know what was going
on."

Of course, he just had to tell Mac that he was leaving before he told her. Just
three more days, she reminded herself. In seventy-two hours, Sarah Mackenzie
would be Sarah Brumby and out of their lives - and out of their relationship -
forever. "Do you have to?" she pouted, then snapped her fingers and smiled as
an idea came to her. It would require some more rearranging of her schedule,
but this was too important. "Why don't I give Claude a call and push back
tomorrow's schedule for a few hours? Then I can accompany you to Norfolk and
give you a proper goodbye before you go."

"No, Renee," he said, picking up a stack of mail off the bookcase and idly
flipping through it, not that he hadn't already done so when he'd gotten home.
He just wasn't in the mood for Renee's pleading. "Quals are very stressful. If
I don't do well, then I can lose my flight status. I'm driving up to Norfolk
tonight so I can get a good night's sleep and be well rested for my quals, which
would be the last thing that would happen if you came with me."

"Harm, she's getting married in three days," Renee pointed out, fingering the
string of pearls around her neck. Wonderful. How was she supposed to make him
forget if he kept pushing her away? Well, she wasn't a woman who would tolerate
being pushed away.

He turned around and stared at her as if she'd suddenly grown two heads,
dropping the stack of mail back on the bookcase. "Since when were we talking
about Mac?" he demanded. "I was talking about my carrier-landing quals."
Right, and you're in such a foul mood because you're worried about catching the
two wire, he chided himself.

"Since she's always between us," Renee countered, "even when she's not here.
Tell me, if she hadn't asked you to make a point of it, would you even care if
you made it back in time for her wedding?"

"Of course," he said, using the same line he'd often used on himself in the last
few months as he'd watched her make wedding plans with Brumby. Not that he
thought it would convince Renee any more than he had managed to convince himself
with it. "Mac has been a close friend for nearly five years."

"And more?" she mused. She'd often wondered, but both she and Mic had tried to
convince themselves that it didn't matter. All that should have mattered was
that he had Mac and she had Harm. But the more distant he became as the wedding
drew closer, the more she needed to know.

"I am not going there with you," he said firmly, barely able to keep the anger
out of his voice, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. She
noted that, as before, he hadn't really denied her assertion. "As you said, Mac
is getting married in three days. And that's the end of it."

Studying him with his determined expression and hand on the door knob, Renee
reluctantly convinced herself to let it drop for now. At least he would be in
Norfolk, then on a carrier in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and Mac would be
here in Washington, distracted by all those pesky last-minute wedding details.
She pressed against his side, intending to give him a deep, passionate goodbye
kiss, but he turned to open the door and she only managed to press her lips
against the corner of his mouth. "You'll call me when you get back," she said
hopefully. "Or if you are running behind, you could get ready for the wedding
then come by to pick me up." She couldn't help throwing in one more reminder of
the door that was about to close to him.

He nodded as they stepped out of the apartment and he closed the door behind
him, locking it. "I'll call," he agreed, trying not to think about escorting
her to the wedding that was threatening to rip his heart to shreds.

"Good," she said, turning her to him as they stood in the hall and this time
managing to catch him off-guard enough to give him a kiss, even if it wasn't
quite the kind of kiss she'd wanted to give. "Just remember that I'm waiting
for you."

As he climbed into his car, Harm tossed his bag on the seat beside him with a
sigh. Renee was his girlfriend, but when she had just kissed him, he hadn't
felt anything. He had been automatic, rote in his response. He couldn't make
himself feel anything. Truth be told, he'd been that way ever since the party,
when he'd held in his arms the one woman whose kisses would always haunt him.

Mac was distracted as she walked across the street to her building. What was
happening? She had spent the better part of a year trying to convince herself
that she was in love with one Mic Brumby, but all that had fallen apart with one
simple kiss. Now, as she was about to marry one man, she craved the touch and
kisses of another as much as she craved the air that she breathed.

"Hey, Mac!" a voice called out from in front of her. Mac looked up from where
she was studying the cracks in the sidewalk in front of her to see her sister
running towards her. She held her arms out and gathered Chloe into her embrace.


"It's so good to see you," she said. Oddly, for the first time in a long time,
Mac felt relaxed. She took a step back and studied Chloe. "You've grown since
the last time I saw you."

"Well, I'm grown up now," Chloe proclaimed, watching Mac. She was worried about
her, had been ever since Mac had told her at Christmas that she had agreed to
marry Mic. Now that she could see Mac in person, she was even more concerned.
Three days before her wedding and the last image that Mac projected was that of
a happy bride-to-be.

Mac laughed. At least some things were constant. Chloe was still Chloe. "You
just turned fourteen a few days ago," she pointed out.

"Yeah, fourteen going on forty," another voice interjected. Chloe sighed and
rolled her eyes.

"Dad!"

"Hello again, Kyle," Mac said warmly, holding out her hand to him. "How are you
doing?"

"I'm doing well," he replied as he shook her hand. "Congratulations on your
wedding."

Chloe noticed the brief cloud that passed over Mac's face at the mention of the
wedding, but then it was gone and Mac was smiling again. "Thank you," she
replied.

"Look, we need to go get checked into our hotel," Kyle said. "But Chloe
insisted we had to stop by and let you know that we made it here."

"I asked Dad if I could stay with you while he goes get us checked in," Chloe
interrupted excitedly. "Since we haven't seen each other in a while, I thought
we could take some time to get caught up, just us women."

"If it's okay with you, of course," Kyle said, trying to be the voice of reason.


Mac's looked at her sister and her heart melted. She could use the company -
and maybe Chloe could help distract her from the turmoil haunting her night and
day. "It's fine, Kyle," Mac assured him. "I'd love to have Chloe to myself for
a few hours."

"Great!" Chloe exclaimed. "See you later, Dad!"

Kyle laughed as he kissed his daughter's forehead. "Well, I guess she's all
yours then, Mac," he acquiesced. "Just give me a call if she gets to be too
much. Otherwise, I'll pick her up in a few hours for dinner." He winked,
causing Mac to laugh and Chloe to roll her eyes again.

"Bye, Kyle," Mac said. "We'll see you later."

"Bye, Dad," Chloe echoed. They both watched as Kyle walked down the street back
to where he had parked their rental car. Once he had driven off, Mac put her
arm over Chloe's shoulder and lead her into her building.

"You don't know how glad I am to see you," Mac said.

"So how's Harm?" Chloe asked, managing to sound completely innocent. Bingo, she
thought as she noted the pained look in Mac's eyes at the mention of his name.

It took Mac a moment to shake the memory of their walk from her mind and to
attempt a convincing answer. "Harm's fine," she replied, glancing down at her
engagement ring. She shook her head. "He's leaving tonight for Norfolk. He
has to complete his annual carrier-landing qualifications by the end of the
month."

"You mean he's not going to be here for the wedding?" Chloe asked, raising her
voice as Mac unlocked her apartment door. A passing neighbor looked at them
oddly and Mac ushered Chloe into the apartment, firmly closing the door behind
them. "I can't believe this." Chloe was upset. She'd held onto her dreams of
someday being the flower girl at Harm and Mac's wedding. Mac's upcoming wedding
to Mic was just a minor stumbling block to that. She'd had romantic visions of
Harm sweeping in and declaring his undying love for Mac, carrying her away from
what would be the biggest mistake of her life. How could he do that if he
wasn't even going to be there?

"Chloe, Harm's going to be at the wedding," Mac assured her, puzzled by Chloe's
reaction. Sure, Chloe was very fond of Harm, but you'd think Harm was the one
she was marrying from the way she was acting. "I spoke to him earlier. He
promised to be back in time for the wedding."

Chloe couldn't help her sigh of relief. "Good," she said, relieved. "Then it's
not too late."

"Too late for what?" Mac asked, although she had a feeling that she already knew
the answer to that question. She really shouldn't be surprised that Chloe was
managing to give voice the doubts in her own heart. Chloe had always been one
to speak her mind and had always been expressing hope that Harm and Mac would
eventually get together. She needed to nip this in the bud. She had enough on
her mind without her sister adding to the turmoil. Chloe was supposed to help
make her feel better, not doubt herself even more. "Chloe, I. . . ."

"Why are you marrying him?" Chloe asked, abruptly changing the subject from Harm
to Mac's intended husband.

"What?" Mac turned around and stared at her sister incredulously, startled by
the sudden redirection of their conversation.

"Why are you marrying Mic Brumby?" Chloe clarified. "What is it about him that
is making you choose to spend the rest of your life with this man?"

"Well," Mac began slowly, trying to gather her thoughts, "he's a good man. He
makes me laugh. He gave up a lot to be with me here - his career in the Navy,
his home in Australia. And most importantly, he's offering me the life I've
always wanted - a home, a family eventually."

Chloe wanted to strangle her sister. How could such an intelligent woman be so
completely dense when it came to her personal life? She sighed heavily.
Sometimes she felt like she was the older one. "What about love?" she pressed.

What does love have to do with anything?

Yeah, what does it have to do with anything, she asked herself. She'd been in
love - and her affections had been thrown back in her face with talk of not
being able to let go and waiting, possibly for eternity. When Mac didn't answer
immediately, Chloe repeated the question. Mac shook her head, trying to clear
it. "Chloe, it's a lot more complicated than that," she tried to explain, but
Chloe waved her off.

"The only complication I see here is that you love Harm," Chloe countered, "he
loves you and - for some God-unknown reason that I have been trying to figure
out ever since you first told me you had agreed to wear Mic's ring - you're
about to throw your life away on marriage to a man whom you definitely do not
love."

"I never said that," Mac protested, but it sounded weak, even to her own ears.

"And you never said that you do love him either," Chloe pointed out. "Come on,
Mac. It's not that hard, if you really do love him. It's just three little
words. Say them."

"I. . . ." Mac began, the rest of the words sticking in her throat. Chloe
wanted to jump up and down in triumph, but stopped at the look of utter despair
on Mac's face.

Chloe walked across the room to Mac and clasped her hands. "Mac," she said, her
tone very serious and grown-up, "you're my sister and I love you. So please
listen to me when I say that I'm worried about you. I'm scared that you're
about to make a huge mistake. You love one man, but you're about to marry
another. You're settling for some reason that I don't think even you
understand. Please, think about this some more before you end up ruining three
lives."

"Chloe, I've made my decision," Mac said, sounding uncertain, as if trying to
convince herself as much as Chloe. "Harm has agreed to live with it. So should
you. Please, I want you to be happy for me."

"Did it ever occur to you that Harm's accepting your decision only because
you're not giving him a choice," Chloe asked sadly, "that he loves you enough to
let you walk away because that is what *you* are making him believe that you
want? He's falling on his sword because he loves you enough to let you go if
that is what make you happy."
You've made a choice to get married and I respect that.
"Harm's not falling on his sword," Mac protested, even as she began to seriously
consider the possibility in her own mind. How many times had he told her that
he was happy for her if she was happy? Sure, they touched more now than they
had in the last couple of years - touched the way they used to before. . .
.things. . . .had conspired to nearly tear their friendship apart. That didn't
mean that Harm was in love with her. But their kisses - the way he had pulled
her back to him during both kisses, as if he couldn't get enough of her. Those
were hardly the actions of a man who was happy that she was marrying someone
else.

"Have you ever asked him?" Chloe asked. "Or is he just telling you what you
think you want to hear because you haven't asked?"

"Chloe. . . ." Mac began, pulling her hands away and turning to look out the
window. It was a beautiful day, the sun shining blindingly bright. Too bad it
couldn't shed the light of truth on this situation. Or maybe she was so far
gone that she was blinded to the truth. She didn't know anymore.

"Mac, talk to him," Chloe pleaded, placing her hand on Mac's arm. "Go see him
before he heads to Norfolk. You owe it to yourself, to him - even to Mic Brumby
- to figure this out before you get to the 'until death us do part'."

When Mac remained silently staring out the window, Chloe shook her head sadly,
an action Mac saw reflected in the window, but didn't acknowledge. She knew how
Chloe felt about Harm - she'd never made any secret of her hopes for Harm and
Mac. But she barely knew Mic. How could she know or not know what was between
the two of them?

"Mac, I'm going to call my dad on his cell phone and ask him to come pick me
up," Chloe said. "Please, think about what I said and please, go talk to Harm.
You should be sure before you get married and from what I've heard here, you are
far from it."
It helps if you're sure.
Mac stood unmoving by the window as Chloe walked across the room and made her
phone call. Maybe she should have stayed as far away from Harm as possible
during that damned party, instead of pushing him until he finally opened up.
Then they would never have kissed and then they wouldn't have spent the last two
weeks touching and then they wouldn't have kissed today in the courtyard. Then
maybe Mac wouldn't have all these doubts.

But as she touched her lips with her fingertips, remembering how they had
tingled from Harm's kisses, she knew at least one thing. She couldn't have not
kissed Harm, anymore than she could deny her own name.

After Chloe had left, giving her father the excuse that Mac was exhausted from
all the wedding preparations and that they would spend time together tomorrow,
Mac had paced her living room until she was surprised she hadn't worn a hole in
the carpet. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore and, grabbing her keys and
her purse, left her apartment and took off in her Corvette, figuring a drive
would clear her head.
Permission to come aboard.
Permission granted.
Mac pounded her fist on the steering wheel. He'd captured her attention from
the beginning, looking so confident and cocky and sure with his gold wings and
brand-new medal pinned on by the President of the United States. She had
admitted it to herself when he'd gone out of his way - after she'd all but
betrayed him - to come to the rescue of her and her uncle, both literally and
figuratively. But she hid behind a façade of Marine discipline and the walls
she'd built around herself to prevent people from getting too close, to prevent
anyone else from hurting her the way her parents had hurt her.
I know. You were kissing her
That had been easier than admitting the truth - that she had wanted Harmon Rabb
more than she'd wanted any man in her life. But he was hurting from the memory
of his lost love and it was simpler to brush their kiss off as an aberration,
telling herself that he only saw her as a doppelganger of his dead love. It was
better than risking her feelings being shot down.

Damn you. Why am I the only one crying?

That had probably been the moment, more than any other since they'd known each
other, when she'd wanted him more than she'd wanted her next breath. She would
have done anything if only he'd swept her into his arms and carried her off,
promising that when he would come home, he would come home to her.

Is that how long we're going to wait?

She should have stuck to her guns, kept telling herself that Harm only saw her
as the living apparition of his dead love. Then maybe she wouldn't have thrown
herself at him and ended up going down in flames, leading her to accept a ring
from another man - a man she hadn't even dated - just a few nights later.

A 19th-century Naval Commander, with Mic's face, walked down the row of
mutineers about to be hung at his command. He looked each man in the eye as he
pulled the black hood of death over their faces. Finally, his eyes locked with
the third and final man - a man with Harm's face.

With a sharp jerk of the steering wheel, Mac pulled off the road, gravel
spraying as she came to a stop with the screech of tires on the unpaved
shoulder. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel as her whole body
shook with the sobs she forced back, refusing to give into the tears forming. A
snippet of her conversation with Harm at the party echoed in her head.

What do you want most?

What I want most, Mac, is. . . .is to never lose you.

I promise you - no matter what happens - you won't lose me.

Was that what the dream meant? That if she married Brumby, she'd lose Harm -
their friendship ending up dead and buried, along with anything else which might
have been? "No," she cried out. "That can't happen." She released the
steering wheel and pressed her hands to her head, fighting against the headache
threatening to overwhelm her. Her head jerked up when she heard a knock on her
car window.

Taking a shaky breath, she rolled down the window, finding herself looking into
the eyes of a Virginia State Trooper. "Ma'am, are you alright?" he asked,
studying her intently. Probably looking for signs that I'm driving drunk, she
realized. Figuring that he would ask, she slowly reached for her license in her
purse and registration in the glove compartment, holding them up for the officer
to see.

"I'm sorry," she said, taking another deep breath. "I just got a little dizzy
and thought it best to pull off the road. I didn't want to get into an
accident."

The officer smiled at her and Mac forced herself to relax, managing a smile in
response. "There's an exit just ahead with a gas station and restaurant," he
suggested. "Maybe you can stop there for a while, get some aspirin, clear your
head before you continue on to wherever you're going."

"That's probably not a bad idea," she agreed. Suddenly, she frowned.
Calculating the time in her head and glancing at the rapidly setting sun, she
realized that she had to have been on the road for a while, blindly driving
wherever the car would take her. Hoping the trooper wouldn't think she was
completely out of it, she asked, "Where am I exactly? I'm afraid I'm not all
that familiar with this part of the state."

"You're just north of Richmond," he replied, not looking at her too strangely,
for which Mac was thankful. "The 295 interchange is a few miles ahead. Where
are you headed?"

"Norfolk," she answered automatically, then stopped. Where on earth had that
come from? She wasn't headed for Norfolk. Yeah, right, the voice inside her
head countered, that's why you're already halfway there without even realizing
where you were going. "I'm going to see my. . . .a friend. He's deploying in
the morning to an aircraft carrier."

"Well, depending on traffic you've probably got another hour and a half - maybe
two - before you get there," he pointed out. "It's probably not a bad idea to
take that break, depending on how far you've come already."

"Washington," she stated. "I'm driving from DC. And thank you for the
suggestion. I think I will take that break at the next exit." Yeah, I need to
figure out just what the hell I'm doing, she thought.

Satisfied that Mac was okay and not drunk, the trooper returned to his own
vehicle. Mac waited until he had driven off, then pulled back onto the road
herself. As she drew closer to the exit, she considered her options. All she
had to do was get off at the exit, probably cross a bridge, then get back on the
highway going north, back to DC. That would be for the best.

A few minutes later, in the parking lot of a gas station, Mac was still debating
with herself about which way to go. Straight ahead then left to I-95 North and
back to DC? Or right back onto I-95 South and continue on to I-295, then I-64,
eventually ending up in Norfolk?
You're in love with Harm. . . .if it makes you feel any better, you should
know that Harm's in love with you, too.
Maybe Chloe was right. Maybe she did need to clear the air with Harm once and
for all. They'd made a start on the Admiral's porch, but maybe they needed to
finish it before she could move on - before any of them could. Mac took a deep
breath and started her car. Her features expressing her determination, her
decision firmly set in her mind, she pulled out of the gas station parking lot
and back onto the highway - heading south towards Norfolk Naval Base.