Title: One to Wish On
Author: StarTrails
Rating: PG-13
Email: StarTrails@hotmail.com Feedback is always welcome!
For my previous JAG fanfics:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/StarTrailsJAGfic
Disclaimer: I don’t own JAG, no matter how much I wish I did. No money 
being 
made here, either.
Spoilers: Adrift 2, A Tangled Webb 1 and 2, Guilt, Boomerang, A Merry 
Little 
Christmas.
Summary: A follow-up to the season 9 ep, A Merry Little Christmas.  
What 
better time than Christmas for Harm and Mac to bury the hatchet?


~~One to Wish On~~

Outside Harm’s Apartment
North of Union Station
December 24, 2003
10:00pm EST

Sarah Mackenzie hugged her arms tightly to her chest, bracing herself 
against the icy wind. The only part of her that wasn’t cold was her 
cheeks; 
the hot tears that made their way down from her eyes were seeing to 
that. 
Still, the coldness outside was no match for the frozen emptiness that 
numbed everything inside her. Correction, she thought – she wasn’t 
numb. In 
fact, she was overwhelmed with feelings. She felt so many emotions, all 
of 
them so strongly she thought she might burst from the pressure of it. 
The 
hurt, the shock, the loneliness. Most of all, the fear. The paralyzing 
fear 
that this was the end.

But then, had there ever really been a beginning? Of course there had, 
Mac 
chastised herself. God, had it really been two and a half years since 
the 
last time she’d found herself standing in this very spot, looking up 
through 
tears at that very same window? So much had changed in that time. So 
much, 
and yet, so little.

The lights were on in Harm’s apartment, but no one was standing near 
the 
window. Mac visualized the scene she imagined taking place inside: a 
few old 
photo albums scattered on the coffee table, Mattie flipping through one 
on 
the couch, reaching for her mug of hot chocolate every now and then, 
and 
Harm gently strumming something peaceful on his guitar. Maybe he’d hum 
a few 
bars, or maybe he’d be busy telling Mattie the stories behind the 
pictures, 
so she’d know his father as more than just a name on a wall. Maybe 
pictures 
from graduation at the Naval Academy, or from the day he got his wings. 
Or 
maybe they were even older, like the one Harm kept on his desk – him 
sitting 
in the cockpit, fiddling with the controls, while his father looked 
down at 
him, beaming with the pride and anticipation only a father can have for 
a 
son.

Mac’s eyes stayed fixed on the window, and she wrapped her scarf more 
tightly around her neck as the wind seemed to rip through her. Would it 
always be like this, she wondered. Would she always be on the outside, 
looking in?

She’d never felt like more of an outsider in Harm’s life, and really, 
in her 
own, than just a day before, when Harm had asked her to vouch for him 
in 
court. If it had been a shock when he told her he was petitioning the 
Commonwealth of Virginia to become Mattie’s guardian, it was an even 
bigger 
shock, and, perhaps, she reflected now, one of the more painful moments 
of 
her adult life, when he had dismissed her so quickly and walked out of 
her 
apartment. It was too important for her to screw up, he had said, 
mumbling 
it almost as an afterthought. But it had sailed across the room like a 
hand 
grenade, and blown up in her face, embedding shrapnel deep inside her 
body. 
So deep, that even now, a day later, she could feel the sharp ache 
radiate 
from her heart out to every inch of her, all the way to her fingers and 
toes, where her gloves and Marine-issue pumps offered little protection 
against the stinging cold.

He had been right – it was important. And that was the very reason why 
she’d 
been so surprised that that was the first she was hearing of it. Had 
they 
really drifted that far apart? Had they really become so distant from 
each 
other since Paraguay that they no longer shared milestones like that? 
That 
they no longer confided in the other? Trusted each the other to come 
through 
in a pinch, like they had done a thousand times in the eight years 
they’d 
been partners and friends?

Harm had answered by way of slamming the door on his way out. Yes, they 
really had drifted that far apart. No, they could no longer count on 
each 
other. Or, at least, he didn’t feel he could count on her. But this 
wasn’t 
just any situation. It was a young girl’s life, and did Harm really 
have any 
idea what he was in for? Growing up under the weight of losing a parent 
was 
one thing; trying to raise someone else under the same circumstance was 
something else entirely. And that was why she had questioned him – not 
because she didn’t think he’d make a wonderful guardian – but because 
she 
would have liked to help from the beginning, not to be relied upon as a 
last 
resort. As a non-entity in his life, called upon only when there was no 
alternative.

He hadn’t even given her a chance to answer. He’d interpreted her 
questions 
and misgivings as refusal and rejection. If it wasn’t so devastatingly 
painful, she would have to laugh at the irony. It seemed she could 
never say 
anything the way he needed to hear it. Everything was misunderstood, 
misconstrued. She had finally come to understand the ocean of pain he’d 
swum 
through after that ill-fated night in Australia. She’d misunderstood 
his two 
simple words, “not yet,” to mean “not ever,” and she was so shaken, and 
so 
ashamed at having opened herself to such rejection, that she turned 
around 
and threw right back at him the kind of shock and bitter hurt. Was that 
God’s cruel joke on them both? That they made logical arguments and 
impassioned pleas on behalf of other people for a living, but when it 
came 
to their own lives, there was a deep disconnect between their hearts 
and 
their words?

------------------------------------------

He felt her more than he saw or heard her. After all, hadn’t that 
always 
been the way between them? They could always sense where the other was. 
And 
tonight, right now, he knew she was there. And he knew she was crying.

Harm had braved the cold without a coat to take the trash out quickly, 
and 
as soon as he had thrown the bag into the dumpster, he approached her. 
She 
didn’t notice him at first; the whistle of the wind masked the sound of 
his 
footsteps, and her eyes were shut tightly while she rocked herself 
slowly, 
whether against the cold, or against whatever was making her cry, he 
couldn’t tell.

“Mac?” he said quietly.

Startled, Mac jerked her head up. She hadn’t expected to see him 
tonight, 
and had no idea what to say to him. Well, really, there were a million 
things, some words brand new, and others that had been waiting for 
years to 
be spoken. So many words, there was no easy place to start.

“What are you doing here?” Harm asked. And, for once, his tone wasn’t 
antagonistic. He sounded as surprised to see her as she was to have 
found 
herself there. She hadn’t planned on going there, but after dropping 
Mattie 
off at the Wall, Mac had driven around aimlessly, until her car had 
somehow 
taken her to the place where she needed to be. To the only place she 
*could* 
be.

She searched for a response. “I … I … um … I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Mac …”

“I should go,” she insisted quickly, and she turned toward her car.

Harm stilled her with his hand firmly on her arm. “Mac, wait.” Without 
thinking, he reached out and cupped her face in his hand, feeling her 
ice-cold cheeks, and wiping away a tear in the process. “You’re 
freezing. 
Why don’t you come inside.”

“Harm, no. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t know why I came.”

“Mac, look,” Harm said, “you’re a popsicle, and I’m quickly becoming 
one. 
Please, come upstairs.”

Mac sniffled as her tears slowed. Nodding, she whispered, “Okay.”

The elevator ride was made in silence. Harm contemplated asking Mac 
what had 
her so upset, but thought better of it. Lately, it seemed the less said 
between them, the better. And he really had no idea what she was doing 
there. Hadn’t she said she had a date with Webb? He doubted the man 
could’ve 
been called away on business; even terrorists take a break for 
Christmas. 
Anyway, she would tell him when she was ready. If she *wanted* to tell 
him.

They reached his apartment, and Harm closed the door behind them. Mac 
made 
no move to walk into the living room, choosing instead to stay just 
inside 
the door. She tightened the belt on her coat and kept her arms wrapped 
around herself, as if protecting herself against some imminent attack.

Harm looked at her oddly. “Let me take your coat, Mac. Mattie’s got the 
heat 
on high. I swear, I’m going to have to make captain soon just to pay 
the gas 
bill.” Mac offered a half-smile at that, and handed her coat to Harm, 
who 
hung it up on a hook by the door.

“Hey, Mac!” Mattie called from the couch. She held up a large plate, 
piled 
high with cookies. “Gingerbread cookie? We made chocolate chip and 
almond 
snowballs, too.”

Harm rolled his eyes. “Did I mention I need the pay raise to hire a 
personal 
trainer, too? I haven’t eaten this much sugar since I was sixteen.”

“Whatever,” Mattie said cheerfully. “I promised Harm that if he lets me 
have 
total junkfood for Christmas, then after that, I’ll eat whatever he 
cooks.”

Mac’s eyes widened. “Word to the wise – stay away from the meatless 
meatloaf.”

Mattie laughed. “Yeah, I’m already wondering how many different ways 
the man 
can prepare tofu, but Harm’s brought me a bunch of things over the past 
few 
months, and, unfortunately, he’s proven extremely … creative.”

Mac chuckled. “Well, when you want some real food, you know who to 
call.”

“Even Beltway Burgers?”

“Are you kidding? Every Tuesday, double cheeseburger special. They know 
me 
by name at the one in Falls Church.”

“Hey!” Harm objected. “Don’t make me regret inviting you up here.”

“Face it, Harm,” Mac replied. “Your diet is not exactly teenager 
friendly.”

“It is if that teenager wants to be healthy when she’s fifty.”

“I may come to regret this whole guardian thing,” Mattie joked.

“You won’t,” Mac said gravely. She was speaking to Mattie, but her eyes 
were 
locked with Harm’s.

Mattie looked to Harm, and smiled. “I know.” She held the tray out to 
Mac 
again. “So are you having a cookie, or what?”

“No,” Mac answered. “I really can’t stay. I just wanted to … to …”

It wasn’t like Mac to say no to sweets, and that’s when Harm knew for 
certain that something was wrong. He crossed the room to be closer to 
her. 
“To what?” he whispered.

“To …” Mac trailed off, looking inconspicuously at Mattie.

Sensing Mac’s discomfort, Harm turned to Mattie. “Excuse us for a 
minute.” 
He took Mac’s hand and led her to his bedroom. He took a seat on his 
bed and 
she stood before him, their hands still locked. “You want to tell me 
what’s 
going on, Mac?”

“I guess I wanted to … I don’t know, Harm … I thought maybe …” Her 
words 
trailed off as her eyes filled with tears again.

Now, Harm was truly alarmed. He hadn’t seen anything affect her this 
deeply 
since Bud had lost his leg, and they were sitting outside sickbay on 
the 
Guadalcanal, waiting for news. Granted, he and Mac had gone their 
separate 
ways after returning from Paraguay, but still. Had their friendship 
disintegrated so drastically that something could be this terribly 
wrong 
with Mac, and he had no idea what it was? He had accepted her 
declaration 
that there would never be “an us,” but he’d never intended to lose her 
entirely. Not their friendship, not their inside jokes. Not their 
caring for 
one another.

“Tell me, Mac,” he pushed.

“I thought we could talk.” She met his eyes only after she’d said the 
words.

“I think we’ve done enough talking for two lifetimes, Mac. I mean, how 
much 
more time do you want to waste beating that horse?”

His response stung her, but Mac pressed on. “No more time, Harm. 
Because we 
haven’t talked. We’ve argued, and we’ve insulted each other, and we’ve 
cut 
each other off. But we haven’t talked.”

Harm shook his head in near disbelief. If Mac was serious about them 
trying 
to have a civilized conversation, then she was either a sadist or a 
masochist, and he had no interest in finding out which it was. He 
sighed. 
“What makes you think we can?”

“I don’t think we can, Harm. I know we can.”

“Why?”

“Because, it’s too important.”

“What is?”

“Our friendship. And … whatever this *thing* is, between us.”

“That’s just it, Mac. We don’t have that ‘thing’ between us anymore. 
And 
lately, more and more, I’ve been questioning whether we ever did.”

If Mac’s heart was already broken, it broke a little more. “How can you 
say 
that?” she said softly, her voice threatening to break.

“Because, Mac, I can’t talk to you for more than two minutes without 
feeling 
like I’m walking through a minefield. One false word and the whole 
damned 
thing explodes in my face.”

“Like walking out on me after telling me to forget about helping you 
because 
I’d only screw it up?”

Mac could see Harm visibly lose steam. He let out his breath and his 
shoulders relaxed. “I’m sorry for that, Mac. I was a jerk, and you came 
through for me anyway. I should have trusted you.”

“Yes, you should have. But I should have understood better what you 
needed 
from me, and, Harm, this is exactly why we need to talk. We have a lot 
of 
things to clear up, and not just about Mattie …”

“Webb?” Harm guessed.

Mac smiled. “Yes. And we’ll get to him, eventually. But we can’t do 
this 
here.

Harm thought of Mattie, flipping through the albums in the next room. 
“Your 
place, then?”

Mac shook her head. “No. Neutral ground. Not your place, not mine. Not 
JAG 
headquarters, and not McMurphy’s.”

“Okay, then where?”

Mac smiled. “I know the perfect place. Get your coat.”

-------------------------------------------

“Mattie,” Harm said after he and Mac had gone back into the living 
room, 
“Mac and I have some things to discuss.”

“Do you need me to get lost?” Mattie asked knowingly. “I can find 
somewhere 
to go.”

“Don’t you dare,” Harm said.

“Not in this neighborhood,” Mac warned simultaneously.

“We’re going to go out for a little while,” Harm explained. “You’ll be 
all 
right here for a bit, right?”

“Of course,” Mattie answered.

Harm nodded. “I’ll have my phone on. Call if you need anything. And 
keep the 
door locked.”

Mattie chuckled. “Am I allowed to just say ‘okay,’ or do I have to 
start 
saying ‘aye, sir’?”

Harm rolled his eyes.

“Keeping a tight ship, huh?” Mac teased.

“We’re going through an … adjustment period,” Harm muttered. He and Mac 
put 
their coats on and said goodbye to Mattie.

When they got downstairs, Harm suggested that they take separate cars, 
in 
case their “talk” didn’t work out.

“No,” Mac said firmly. “It’ll work out. It has to. And besides, if it 
doesn’t, I just may fling myself off the Memorial Bridge, and you won’t 
want 
to have to tow my car back in the morning.”

With that, Mac stepped over to the passenger side of Harm’s SUV and 
waited 
for him to unlock the door.

------------------------------------------------

11:00pm EST
Arlington Memorial Bridge
Washington, DC


At Mac’s insistence, Harm drove to the Memorial Bridge. He parked the 
car on 
Constitution Avenue, and they made their way on foot to the bridge’s 
pedestrian walkway. The lights obscured any stars that may have been 
visible, but they made for a beautiful shimmer on the waves of the 
Potomac 
below.

“Did you know this is my favorite place in the whole city?” Mac asked.

“No, I didn’t. Why?”

“Because, it reminds me why I love it here so much.”

Harm thrust his hands into his coat pockets. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

Mac smiled wistfully. “Because, from here you can see so much – 
Arlington 
Cemetery, the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument. All these 
reminders 
of what makes this country so incredible. And it’s even better now, 
late at 
night, when all the politicians and tourists are gone, and all you can 
see 
are lights, and everything’s quiet except for the water below us.” She 
closed her eyes and continued, a look of wonder and contentment still 
visible on her features. “And for a little while, you can forget about 
the 
red tape and bureaucracy, and remember what it’s all here for: freedom, 
sacrifice, the rule of law.”

“And here I thought it was just a bridge,” Harm said plainly.

Mac sighed. She pulled her hands out of her pockets and folded her arms 
across her chest in frustration. “Do you have to do that *every* time?”

“Do what?”

“Ruin every enjoyable moment?” She shook her head and turned away from 
him. 
She stood atop one of the bridge’s stone benches and leaned over the 
railing, watching the flow of the river.

“You’re not gonna fling yourself off yet, are you? I mean, we were just 
getting started.”

Mac had a sarcastic remark at the ready, and literally had to bite her 
tongue to keep it from escaping.

“Mac,” Harm said, his tone much softer, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to 
ruin 
it. Really. I’ve never looked at this place like that before. I’ve been 
over 
this bridge a million times, and it was always just a way to get from 
here 
to there.”

Still looking away from him, Mac said, “There’s always another 
perspective, 
Harm, another way of seeing things.”

Harm paused, trying to decipher her meaning. “We’re not talking about 
the 
bridge anymore, are we?” When Mac didn’t answer right away, Harm 
climbed up 
onto the same bench and stood next to her, their arms separated only by 
the 
bulky layers of their coats. “So what are we talking about, then?” Mac 
still 
showed no sign of having heard him, so he put his finger gently to her 
cheek 
and turned her face to his. “Mac, what is it you brought me here to 
talk 
about?”

She was afraid, so very afraid to say anything, but with Harm looking 
at her 
like that, she knew she had to try. “I don’t know. I guess I thought we 
could try maybe … talking about … you and me.”

Harm nodded, but took a step away from her. “You mean, you and me, as 
in the 
‘us’ you said didn’t exist?”

“Okay, I deserve that.”

“Of course you do,” Harm replied. “You’re the one who said it.”

“Harm, can we please, please leave the past out of this discussion?”

“I don’t see how, Mac. From where I’m standing, that’s all we have. 
Because 
the present, quite frankly, sucks, and we sure as hell don’t have a 
shot at 
a future. If I only think about the past, some days I can actually 
remember 
that, once upon a time, you and I were friends.”

Each of Harm’s comments seemed to sting Mac more than the last, but she 
was 
determined to get through this. “Okay, then let’s talk about the past. 
How 
about yesterday? That’s the past, isn’t it?” She spoke quickly, never 
giving 
Harm a chance to jump in. “How about when you came to my apartment for 
the 
first time in six months, and dropped the bombshell that you’re going 
to 
raise a child? How do you think that made me feel – that you had been 
planning it for months, and that was the first I’d heard about it?”

Harm was taken back by the hurt he detected underneath Mac’s anger. 
“Mac, I 
didn’t think you’d be interested. You made it pretty clear that we 
should go 
our separate ways, and I respected that. I saw no reason to bother you 
with 
the minor details of my life.”

Mac’s eyes widened, but when she answered him, there was more pain in 
her 
voice than there was fury. “You honestly believe that? You honestly 
believe 
I wouldn’t care about you making such a big change in your life?”

Harm only shrugged.

“God, Harm, have we drifted so far apart that we can’t even connect as 
friends anymore?”

“I thought so,” he answered. “I mean, Mac, when you came to me for help 
with 
the Imes situation, what did I do? I helped you. Granted, I did it 
kicking 
and screaming, but I did it. Then, I asked you to do one thing – to 
tell the 
court that you think I’m a decent enough human being to be a positive 
influence on a child. And what did you do? You attacked me and argued 
with 
me.”

“Well, Harm, despite what you said a minute ago, being a guardian for a 
fifteen-year-old girl is not a minor detail. I mean, all of a sudden, 
you’re 
going to change your whole life for someone who’s practically a 
stranger.”

“Mattie is not a stranger to me.”

“Oh no? How well you really know her, Harm?”

“I know her well enough,” he said firmly. “And I know that she welcomed 
me 
into her life with open arms, when everyone else was drop-kicking me 
out of 
theirs – you, the admiral, Sturgis.”

“Sturgis is angry with the whole world, Harm.”

“Well, that still doesn’t explain the other two,” he replied in a huff 
and 
turned away from her.

Mac searched for a way to begin the conversation all this had been 
leading 
up to. Reagan National Airport was just a few miles away, and she was 
grateful to use the noise of a plane overhead as an excuse to stall. 
She 
watched as a 747 lowered its landing gear and dipped below the trees in 
the 
distance.

“Harm,” she began, “I’m not going to talk about Paraguay, because it’s 
not 
going to get us anywhere. So we’ll just start with yesterday. If you 
thought 
I wanted you out of my life forever, why did you come to me? Why did 
you 
trust me to say good things about you?”

Harm prayed in vain for another airplane to come by and buy him another 
minute. “I don’t know, Mac.”

Mac put her hand on his arm, and he turned to her. “Yes, you do,” she 
insisted. “And I want you to tell me.”

Harm began slowly. “Because, Mac, despite everything that’s happened – 
or 
hasn’t happened – between us, you’re still the best friend I’ve ever 
had. 
You’re still the person who knows me best – sometimes better than I’ve 
known 
myself. And I know you just as well. I know your integrity, and I knew 
that 
no matter how far apart we are right now, you would never have used 
that as 
a reason not to help me. Because even though you like to play by all 
the 
rules, a bigger part of you loves the truth just as much as I do, and 
loves 
doing what’s right, no matter the cost. And that’s why I knocked on 
your 
door yesterday. I was looking for my friend. For Sarah Mackenzie, the 
woman 
who would do anything in her power to make sure a scared, lonely young 
girl 
doesn’t have to suffer the same fate she did before finding someone to 
help 
her grow into the amazing woman she’s capable of being.”

Without even realizing, somewhere in the middle of his speech, Harm had 
taken both of Mac’s hands into his, and by the time he was finished, 
Mac had 
tears in her eyes.

“I never meant to hurt you, Harm. I just … it was such a shock. I 
wasn’t 
prepared to hear what you were telling me, what you were asking me to 
do. 
When you walked out … I was so scared, scared that maybe you still did 
have 
that faith in me, but that I’d destroyed it in one fell swoop. As soon 
as 
you shut the door after you, I knew I’d be there for you. Because I 
can’t 
live with that, Harm, with knowing that I’d killed the last possible 
hope of 
us being friends again.”

“You didn’t, Mac,” Harm whispered, drawing her close to him. He pressed 
his 
cheek against hers, trying to draw their body heat together against the 
cold. “You didn’t kill it, and I knew that as soon as they said you had 
come 
to be a character witness for me.”

“I’m sorry, Harm,” Mac said through her tears.

Harm kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry too, Mac.” His breath was warm on 
her 
face.

When Harm pulled away, Mac spoke again. “The only reason I questioned 
you 
was because this is huge. I mean, raising a teenager, Harm? Teenagers 
can be 
hell to put up with in any case, let alone one like Mattie, who’s been 
hurt 
so much already.”

“Then all the more reason why she deserves the stability and 
dependability 
I’m going to give her.”

Mac barely concealed her smile. Dependable. If there was one thing that 
could be said about Harmon Rabb, Junior, it was that he was dependable. 
And 
if there had ever been any doubt, Mac considered, he had erased it when 
he 
had come through the door in Paraguay, as she was bracing herself to 
face 
her impending torture.

“I know, Harm. I do, really. But are you absolutely sure you want to do 
this? I mean, aren’t you even a little bit scared?”

“Scared? Scared? No, Mac. I’m not scared. I’m terrified, all right? I’m 
terrified of screwing this up. I’m terrified that I’ll be so bad at 
caring 
for her that she’ll think she would’ve been better off with … with …”

“With what, Harm? An alcoholic for a father? Well, you’re wrong. If 
he’s 
still drinking, it would only be a matter of time until he starts 
hitting 
her, or worse, until he calls her a few choice names that make her 
honestly 
believe she *deserves* to be treated that way. Believe me, Harm. I 
know.”

Harm nodded. “I’m scared of other things, too. I mean, what do I know 
about 
prom dresses and curling irons? Not a whole hell of a lot, but you know 
what, Mac? I’m willing to learn. If it means that, from now on, that 
incredible girl never has to wake up and wonder if she’ll be all right, 
or 
wonder when the bottom’s going to drop out of her life, or whether 
anyone at 
all cares about her in this world, I swear, I’m going to learn.”

Mac could feel the strength of his conviction even more than she heard 
it. 
“I know, Harm. I know you’re going to make a wonderful guardian, and 
that’s 
why I told that to the court.”

“And is that why you convinced Mattie’s father to give up, even after 
the 
court denied my petition?”

Mac offered a small smile, and Harm could see the streetlights sparkle 
in 
her deep brown eyes. “Mattie seems like a very special girl, and she 
deserves to have a very special guy watching out for her.”

Immediately, a question occurred to Harm, and although he knew that 
asking 
it could potentially ruin the – dare he think it – nice time he was 
having 
with Mac, he couldn’t help himself. “Mac, as long as you’re talking 
about 
special guys, do you mind if I ask why you’re not with Webb right now? 
When 
you dropped Mattie off at the Wall, you said you had a date with him.”

Sighing loudly, Mac turned around and stepped back down onto the 
ground. She 
took a seat on the bench, and Harm did the same. “I didn’t have a date 
with 
him,” Mac confessed.

“So you lied to me,” Harm interrupted.

“I only said that because I thought you and Mattie would want to spend 
some 
time alone. I didn’t want to intrude on that.”

“Mac, you wouldn’t have been intruding. Hell, you’re the reason she and 
I 
are able to spend Christmas together in the first place. And stop 
trying to 
distract me. What’s the story with you and Webb?”

“There is no story.”

“Okay, then, the novel. In fact, you’d probably need an encyclopedia to 
explain to me what you see in him.”

Mac looked squarely into Harm’s eyes. “Harm, there is nothing going on 
between me and Webb. I haven’t even spoken to him in two months.”

“Then what—“

“It was doomed from the start. He wanted a girlfriend, and I wanted to 
help 
a friend recover from a traumatic experience. It was really just a big 
misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?”

“Yeah,” Mac snorted. She turned away from him. “My life is like one big 
episode of Three’s Company, except without the slapstick comedy.”

“Mac? Why didn’t you just say you wanted to give me and Mattie some 
time 
alone? Why did you make that up about Webb?”

“I guess … I guess I wasn’t ready to admit that I was alone.”

“Why, Mac? You know it’s better to be alone than to stay with someone 
you 
don’t love.”

Mac met his eyes for just a split second, and then looked away. But it 
was 
long enough for Harm to have his answer. Her eyes had said it all. He 
quickly scanned his memory: there had been Chris, and Dalton, and Mic, 
and 
then Webb. “God, Mac, you *don’t* know that, do you?”

Mac stared silently down at the water below.

“Mac, look at me. I’d much rather see you alone and all right, than 
with 
someone, and miserable. And that goes triple if that someone is Clayton 
Webb. I’m absolutely finished with him. No more secret missions, no 
more 
covert ops. Nothing. As far as I’m concerned, the best thing about that 
disaster in Paraguay was seeing Victor Galindez again. He’s been a good 
friend to me since day one, when I came back to JAG after my tour on 
the 
Patrick Henry. I was in just about everybody’s doghouse, but he didn’t 
know 
me. He was a good guy back then, and he’s only gotten better. Not to 
mention 
…” He shook his head as his words trailed off.

“What?” Mac asked softly.

“Not to mention how he saved your life. I saw the footage from the 
embassy 
attack … how he held off the angry mob with nothing but a pistol, while 
you 
helped everyone get to the helo. I don’t know if I ever thanked him for 
that.”

“Gunny doesn’t do what he does for praise.”

“Then all the more reason to give it to him. He’s a hell of a man.”

“He’s not the only one.”

Harm’s only response was to ask her, “So what now?”

“What do you mean, ‘what now?’”

“Do you think we might be able to see our way to being friends again?”

“Did we really ever stop?”

Harm smiled. “Maybe not. But it’s still going to be a bumpy ride, Mac. 
A lot 
of new territory for us.”

Mac nodded. “Well, isn’t that what you sailors are supposed to be good 
at? 
Navigating?”

Harm chuckled. “Yeah, but we do better when we have Marines with us, 
scouting out the terrain, forging a path.”

Mac blinked back a tear. “So, together, then?”

Harm smiled. “Agreed. Together. And Mac, as long as we’re agreeing on 
this, 
do you think we can maybe agree to not … disagree so much?”

“I think we can do that.”

Instinctively, they both leaned in and held each other in a tight 
embrace.

“Good,” Harm said, pulling away. “Then, can we agree right now that 
it’s 
freezing out here, and we should head back to my place, where the 
heat’s on 
and the cookies are still fresh?”

“Lead the way, Harm.”

Harm took Mac’s hand, and they made their way in blissful silence back 
to 
Harm’s car.

-----------------------------------------------------

When they got back to Harm’s apartment, Mattie was asleep on the couch. 
Harm 
reached over to help Mac off with her coat, but she stopped him.

“I almost forgot,” she whispered, careful not to wake Mattie. She 
reached 
inside one of the deep pockets in her coat and pulled out a gold star, 
the 
kind that tops off a Christmas tree.

Harm looked at her questioningly.

“I got this for you,” Mac told him. “I didn’t know if … with all this 
with 
Mattie, if you had time to get a tree, but I wanted … just in case …” 
she 
trailed off, mildly embarrassed.

“No, I didn’t get a tree this year. You were right, there was so much 
going 
on, with the court and everything.”

“Right,” Mac said. “Well, maybe you can hold onto it for next year.”

“No,” Harm replied, reaching out to take the star from her. He crossed 
the 
room and went into the kitchen, where he pulled something out of one of 
the 
drawers. Mac couldn’t see what it was until Harm walked her over to the 
living room window. It was a small suction cup, with a hook attached. 
Harm 
pressed it against the glass, making a secure seal, and hung the star 
from 
the hook. “We’ll hang it in the window. That way, even when it’s 
cloudy, 
there’ll always be one to wish on.”

“Merry Christmas, Harm.”

“Merry Christmas, Mac.”

**-The end-**

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