A/N: This takes place after Paraguay. For the purposes of this story, Harm wasn't with the CIA so long, Mac got the therapy she needed right away, Harm never met Mattie, and Sadik is not an issue. It will be a fairly short story (seriously, MAJ8395!)-probably only 2 chapters.

Lost and Found

Chapter 1: Found

1731 Local

Harm's Apartment

North of Union Station

The elevator was out again. Mac often wondered why anyone would have the guts to use the thing given that it was on the fritz more than half the time, but she supposed it was human nature to be lazy if the opportunity presented itself. Especially at the end of a long day.

It had been a long day.

She and Harm had just finished with a court case that saw them on opposing sides, she prosecuting, he defending, and she had beaten him soundly. He had been churlish afterward, refusing her offer of lunch, going off to pout in his office for the next few hours. Mac had to admit to herself that it had hurt; in the old days they would have shaken hands, the loser congratulating the winner and buying him or her dinner. Now, with the specter of Paraguay, Clayton Webb, and Harm's near-conviction for murder still a shroud over them, if they spoke more than a few words to each other during the day or actually cracked a smile, it was big news.

Naively, Mac had believed that once Harm had returned to JAG, they would have a few bumpy weeks and then settle back into their old friendship again. By this point it had been a few months and Harm still hadn't thawed. She had tried to bring it up once a couple of weeks ago; they were forced to spend the day together doing a minor investigation in Norfolk. Harm hadn't even glanced over at her as he drove them down the highway. Instead, he told her they had a case to work on, and could they just think about that?

Mac had merely told him, "sure," turning away from him to hide the tears that threatened to fall. She leaned her head against the window, pretending to sleep, and by the time they arrived in Norfolk, she actually had drifted off. She awoke to the rather annoyed-sounding voice of one Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr, shaking her shoulder and telling her to get moving. It had startled her, and she imagined she saw a little softening of his features as he mumbled an apology before scooting out of the driver's seat. He immediately headed off toward the building where they were set to meet with a Lt Commander Johnson, leaving her to fumble her way out of the car, secure it, and then sprint to catch up with him.

Jackass.

Mac had immediately felt guilty about that thought, despite the fact that he was, indeed, being a jackass. It was her fault, really. She'd been awful to him in Paraguay, had sniped at him mercilessly, and topped it all off with a dollop of never. They would never be in a relationship because they both wanted to be on top, whatever that meant, and that was just too impossible. She immediately regretted her words, wanted to take them back as soon as they left her mouth, but then it became rapidly clear that Harm had no intention of fighting her on it. He'd merely nodded and then was silent on the cab ride to the airport, silent while they boarded the plane, silent while he loaded her carryon into the overhead bin for her, and then, once seated, he turned away from her, alternately reading the in-flight magazine or just sleeping. Mac didn't sleep a wink; she was still too keyed up from the mission and her last conversation with Harm.

It was a long flight.

Once or twice Mac thought about touching his arm, telling him she was sorry, but she didn't. She was too scared, too proud, too…something. She spent the majority of the flight berating herself over her words spoken in the heat of the moment, becoming so focused on that that she didn't even notice when they landed. She came back to the present when Harm shook her by the shoulder. She had looked up at him, eyes wide with confusion, and it took him a couple of times to get her to understand that they needed to start gathering their things to get off the plane. He looked irritated; she was embarrassed.

Mac was also exhausted, bone-weary, and in need of a warm bath in her own tub. All of that added to her pain over the state of her relationship with Harm was whittling away at her stoic marine facade. As she and Harm waited for their luggage to appear in baggage claim, Mac started to sniffle, surreptitiously swiping at the tears that stubbornly refused to stay put. She felt Harm's eyes on her but couldn't bring herself to look up at him. She could use a hug, but she would never again ask him for that given her words at the taxi stand in Paraguay. She half expected him to put his arm around her anyway because they were still friends, right? But he didn't, and that, coupled with his lack of protest over her words convinced her that Harm didn't really care about her or her never. So why, then, should she?

But she did care. Oh, how she cared. When Harm wasn't immediately allowed back at JAG and after she'd witnessed the dressing down Admiral Chegwidden gave him, she had been devastated. She covered it well, relying on every last scrap of marine discipline in her as she requested to return to her duties. Later she had lurked outside of Webb's hospital room as he welcomed Harm to the family. What? Harm, a CIA agent? He'd never…he was too…he just couldn't do this. But he did, and there wasn't much she could do about it. She had her own demons from Paraguay that needed confronting, counseling to attend, and more duties than ever at JAG as it was now down a senior attorney. She shoved thoughts of Harm to the back of her mind for a couple of weeks until she felt she was somewhat back on her feet, then tried to contact him. She called him seventeen times during his months with the CIA, leaving message after message, but he never answered or returned any of them. Despite her suspicion that Harm didn't care for her, love her the way she loved him, she still wanted to apologize. She'd cried herself to sleep after each unanswered call.

When he was invited back to JAG, she thought they'd at least bury the hatchet and be civil, gradually working toward the resumption of their friendship. It soon became apparent, however, that Harm no longer wanted even that with her. She found herself grieving over the loss of him almost as if he had died.

Oddly, she never once considered that perhaps Harm was acting that way because he'd been deeply hurt. Perhaps he not only cared for her and her never, he cared too much. Regardless, she eventually pulled herself together, tried to inure herself to his attitude, and went about her business.

This meant ignoring the casual sneer he'd adopted as his main expression around her. It meant ignoring his clipped tones when he was forced to talk to her. It meant ignoring the fact that she was still hopelessly in love with him…or at least with the Harm she remembered. This Harm didn't even talk much to Sturgis or Bud. He was gentler with Harriet, and Mac observed the younger woman often watching Harm with a look of sadness and concern on her face.

If Mac had been paying more attention, she would have seen the same look from Harriet directed at her. Unaware, Mac walked around with an aura of sadness, of despair, and she was speaking even less to Bud and Sturgis than Harm was. She retreated to her office if she didn't have to be elsewhere, closing herself off from everyone, including the worried Harriet.

Shortly after today's courtroom battle, the admiral had called her and Harm into his office. There was a moment when Mac was sure Admiral Chegwidden was going to ask what the hell was going on with them, but instead he gave them a new case. A marine sergeant at Camp Lejeune had been killed and a JAGMAN investigation had been requested. The admiral was sending them. He handed over the file, told them they had a flight out tomorrow afternoon, and told them to get it figured out quickly. All this was said in the churlish manner he'd adopted since they'd returned from Paraguay. That made Mac sad too; she assumed she was responsible for a lot of it. One more man she'd managed to damage along the way…

She was surprised when Harm suggested they study the file together at his place. She was even more surprised when he suggested they do it over dinner. She couldn't read too much into it though; he had to eat sometime and it would be the appropriate time of day.

Mac trudged up the stairs to Harm's loft behind the man himself, not really paying attention to her surroundings, thus not noticing when Harm stopped at the door to his floor. She crashed into him, bouncing off his body, her briefcase falling from her hand, the "sensible" black pumps on her feet sliding out from under her. She reeled backward, teetering on the edge of the stairs, figuring this was how it was all going to end. Her arm shot out and her fingers caught the rail…and immediately started slipping off. She said her good-byes to Harm in her head, fully expecting to wake up dead in a broken heap on the landing.

But then she felt herself caught up in the strong arms of her former best friend. She crashed against his chest, her heart pounding, her hands clutching at his trench coat. She closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of his aftershave, thanking heaven for his quick reflexes. For a moment she just reveled in her closeness to him, then started to push away, not wanting to overstay her welcome. To her surprise, Harm kept her close.

Mac felt her heart speed up again as she rested against his chest. This could get awkward really fast, but since his arms were still tightly wound around her, she stayed put.

Finally, he loosened his hold and drew back. "You okay, Mac?" She looked up and met his gaze, unable to read what was going on behind the stormy gray-green of his eyes. She also found that she couldn't speak so she merely nodded. They stared at each other for endless seconds, until Mac watched the shade of indifference fall down over his face once again. He let go of her, and she carefully stepped back.

"Um, thanks, Harm. Uh, these shoes…I guess, um, they're slippery." She decided not to mention her running into him because her mind was so far away.

Harm turned away from her, his body obviously stiffening. Mac sighed inwardly. He opened the stairwell door and stepped through, holding it open for her in a manner that seemed like she was just an afterthought. Just when you think he's starting to come around…

They headed down the hall, Mac still slightly behind Harm. Gone were the days when he'd walk beside her, hand at the small of her back. The urge to cry struck her again and it made her angry. It made her want to smack him upside the head. It made her want to go back in time and slap herself upside the head for saying that stupid never. Even if it was most likely true.

"I guess you don't have those comfortable shoes yet, huh?" Mac was a bit startled when she heard his voice. He almost, almost, sounded friendly. Progress?

"You don't have the good man yet, either," Harm mumbled to himself, but likely still for her benefit.

Well, so much for progress…

Harm let her in, telling her to go ahead and change while he ordered the food. Mac was in the middle of removing her coat but stopped when the sleeves were only halfway down her arms. "Oh, I thought…oh, never mind." She went back to taking off her coat.

She heard Harm's long-suffering sigh. "What, Mac?"

She debated just ignoring him; she could pretend she hadn't heard him and make her way to his room to change into her civvies instead. She picked up the briefcase again; before she'd left the JAG parking lot, she had opened her trunk and removed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from her sea bag. Both items were then hastily shoved into the case next to her favorite pair of foldable ballet flats.

She decided to go for honesty. "I thought you were going to cook."

She missed his cooking. She hadn't had any of it since before he was put in the brig. She missed him.

Harm sighed once again. It made her want to slap him…again. "Mac…I just want to go through this case, get it over with."

Of course. "Oh. Well, yeah, me too. What are we…um, what should we order?"

"Chinese okay?" He was already dialing the number, so she guessed the choice had already been made.

"Um, yeah, that's fine. I'll just get changed." She brushed past him, going up the stairs into his bedroom and then shutting herself in his bathroom. She took a few moments to collect herself, not knowing if she was more angry or more sad about this whole situation, and then started removing her uniform.

When a now casually clad Mac came back down the stairs after laying her uniform out on Harm's bed—she hoped that was still okay—she was surprised to see Harm putting his coat back on before grabbing his keys. "Harm, where are you going?" Great. He couldn't even stay in his own apartment with her.

"They're short on delivery guys tonight so I'm going to pick it up—it'll be a lot faster."

Oh. "Okay, um, did you want me to come with you?" Well, that was a stupid question.

"No!" Yup…stupid question. Of course, he didn't have to be so adamant about it. He must have realized how he sounded, because the next words out of his mouth were softer and he even managed a half-hearted half-smile. "Um, no, you don't have to…just…make yourself at home and I'll—I'll go get it. You shouldn't have to go out again."

Don't want to be stuck alone in a car with me, eh, Harm? Frankly, she wasn't sure she wanted to be stuck in a car alone with him, either. "That sounds good, Harm. I'll start looking through the file, okay?"

"Yeah, that'd be great. See you soon," he said rather flatly. Then he turned and practically ran out the door.

"Yeah, see you soon, Harm," she said to the empty apartment.

Mac sat down at Harm's table and started flipping through the information given to them by the admiral. She pulled out a notebook to start making notes, but of course, she didn't have a pen. She scanned the area around her and, not noting any writing utensils nearby, she rose to get some out of Harm's desk. As she padded across the room in her ballet slippers, she hoped he still kept them in the same spot; she hadn't been to Harm's since just before she left for Paraguay. When Harm asked her not to go…she shrugged that thought off quickly. Now was not the time to go there.

Taking a moment to look at the pictures on the desk, Mac was surprised to see the photo of her and Harm in Afghanistan still on display. Interesting, she thought, running her finger over the frame. She missed them…those two friends who faced death together, laughed together, spent the night in the cold desert together…Mac shut down those thoughts quickly as well. She pulled open the top drawer and found what she needed, two pens and a highlighter, and pushed the drawer shut.

Except it wouldn't shut. She tried it a couple more times, but it stubbornly remained open about an inch and a half. She opened it back up and slid her hand in, feeling around for whatever was hindering things. Her fingers grazed what felt like a padded envelope. Reaching behind it, she found part of the envelope had slipped over the back of the drawer, causing the obstruction. She pulled on it a few times, finally managing to dislodge it. She had, however, used a little too much force, and the envelope came flying out of the drawer, spilling its contents onto the hardwood floor.

Mac bent down, first picking up a little velvet pouch. By the feel of it, she had the sinking suspicion she knew what it contained. Heart pounding, she picked up the slip of paper that had come out with the bag, flipping it over and seeing by the letterhead that it had come from Trish Burnett's gallery in La Jolla. Trish Burnett...Harm's mother. She was just about to shove it back into the envelope when she caught sight of her name.

Mac couldn't stop herself; it was impossible not to read it now. With shaking fingers, she set the velvet pouch on the desk and started to read.

June 15th, 2001

My darling boy,

Here is your grandmother's ring that you asked for. Your father spoke often about giving you this ring as soon as you found your bride, and I'm so glad that time has finally come. For years I've waited for your call telling me you were finally asking her. I knew she was perfect for you from the first time you mentioned her. I'd never heard anything approaching the spark in your voice when you told me about your new friend. I knew then that she'd never be 'just a friend' to you.

You have chosen well, my dear Harm. I know I haven't yet met her, but it didn't take long for me to realize that spark in your voice was love. You are so much like your father. Your grandmother told me years ago that she knew I was the one for her son as soon as he said my name…and in this way, I know that Mac is the one for you.

I can't wait for the moment when you finally stand up in front of God and your friends and family and join yourselves together. Your father would be so proud of you. I am so proud of you.

I love you, my dear Harmon.

-Mom

Mac stood there, frozen. Her whole body was shaking now, and she found herself clenching the note from Harm's mother in her fist, wrinkling the elegant stationary as she looked again at the date written across the top.

June. 2001. After Mic left. After she left for the Guadalcanal. Just before Harm arrived there. Oh, god…

Mac set the letter down on the desk and picked up the blue velvet pouch that she now knew held Harm's grandmother's ring. She shook the little box from the bag, staring at it for several seconds before she finally popped it open.

Nestled inside was a simple diamond ring, flanked by two tiny red stones. It was beautiful. It was perfect. It would be so Harm to give something with so much history behind it. A single tear coursed down her cheek, but she didn't notice it.

She did notice a crumpled piece of paper still in the ring's pouch. In shock but knowing she needed to see what was on the thin white paper stuffed inside, Mac pulled it from the bag.

It was a receipt from a jeweler in Falls Church. A quick scan revealed it had been for engraving...with an up charge for rush service. Growing more afraid, she checked the date of it...

May 17th, 2003...

While she was in Paraguay.

Just before Harm arrived and saved her life.

The receipt slipped from her fingers as she pulled the ring from the box. The box dropped unceremoniously onto the desk.

She tilted the ring up to see the words imprinted along the inside of it, and her whole world shattered around her.

For Mac—My love for eternity

End Chapter 1