Title: Dear Harm

Author: L.A.K.

Summary: Jordan Parker remembers Harm one last time. Basically a vignette leading up to the events of "Past Tense".

Author's Note: I don't think Major Lynch was ever given a first name in "Past Tense" so I just called him Brian.

Disclaimer: JAG was created by the legendary Donald P. Bellisario. The episode "Past Tense", which this story expands upon, was written by Dana Coen. The final letter in this story is what Susan Haskell reads out towards the end of that episode. In other words, JAG is not mine, characters are not mine, etc etc. I'm just borrowing and manipulating them.

Dear Harm

Jordan's eyes flickered open as the first beams of light filtered through her window. The remnants of a recurring dream lingered, but for the first time, she smiled. It was a brand new day.

She got up and went straight to the drawer on her bedside table. Sitting on top was a photo album. Most of the photos inside had been taken during five of the best months of her life and she knew every picture in it by heart. She had spent hours alone with it, treasuring and lamenting its memories. She had even shown it to Brian one night and he had very thankfully not flipped out in jealous rage.

Jordan placed the album on her bed and reached into the drawer again, her hands closing around a smooth, non-descript wooden box. Here was something she had never shown anyone or spoken to anyone about; not even her best friend Inez, and definitely not Brian.

She opened it. Unsent letters of the past year had piled up inside, each one holding a piece of her heart.

Dear Harm,

I'm sorry I ended things the way I did. I guess even psychiatrists aren't immune to vengeance.

I never called you back because I wanted you to feel what it was like for me, not hearing from you for two weeks while you decided whether or not you were going back to flying. And then you left, and left me wondering if I'd really meant anything to you at all. So I ignored your messages for as long as I could.

When I came to your apartment, I was determined to make it a cold, clean break. I saw your eyes light up when you opened the door, thinking we could pick things up where we'd left off, and I almost melted. But I just couldn't let you off the hook that easily. You hurt me. So I told you I was going to Spain. I saw your face fall, I watched as you begged me to stay and I looked you straight in the eye and walked out.

Revenge isn't as sweet as I'd hoped it would be.

The ink had smudged in a few places where dried tearstains dotted the paper. Jordan closed her eyes and folded the letter away.

The next one was dated two months after she'd arrived in Spain.

Dear Harm,

How are you? I'm gradually settling in at Rota. It's lovely here and my colleagues at the hospital have welcomed me with open arms.

I miss home terribly though. I've been thinking about you a lot and how I never said goodbye to the man I loved. The man I still love.

Jordan could still recall the moment she had aborted that letter in favour of a bland, neutral postcard that did no justice to either the beauty of Spain or the lingering ache in her heart. About a dozen more similarly-themed letters sat inside the box, but the emotionless postcard remained the only contact she had made with Harm since they broke up.

Jordan arrived back in Virginia just after Christmas to run a new counselling centre at Quantico. It was a responsibility she relished, and it didn't take her too long to settle in once the instinct of her job kicked in. What did her problems matter when others needed help? Like Lieutenant Fontano, whose life was a constant battle with the grief of losing his soul mate and the anger that had manifested in violent outbreaks ever since. Then there was Lieutenant-Colonel Maples…

Jordan's only loss had been a man she dated for five months who went to chase a lifelong dream and who was still very much alive. She felt guilty for wallowing in sorrow for as long as she had.

Jordan put the box back in the drawer, placed the photo album on top, and started getting ready for work.

Inez still worked at Bethesda Naval Hospital and Jordan caught up with her for lunch whenever they could. They discussed life, love, politics. They talked about the private practice they hoped to open someday in Washington, D.C. And Inez often asked Jordan if and when she planned to contact Harm. Even after she started dating Brian. The problem with having such a close friend was how well they could read you.

But Brian was special; a kind-hearted, somewhat introverted man in private who commanded a strong presence in front of his fellow Marines. If she hadn't been so hung up over Harm, it would have been easy to imagine a future with Brian. The past three months had seen them bond over old movies, wine, and their respective relationship issues. Those nights with Brian helped take the edge off the other nights.

Lieutenant-Colonel Peter Maples lived across the hall and had come to her a couple of months ago. His wife was very sick, he explained, and was becoming increasingly violent and irrational. He was ashamed to admit he had reached the point where he couldn't cope any longer. He wanted to discuss committing her to a mental hospital permanently. Jordan had misgivings about those conducting informal counselling sessions. After all, her work was stressful enough without bringing it home. But she remembered why she had gone through medical school in the first place so she let him in and tried to help.

Jordan stepped out of the shower, hugged the towel around her lithe body and sighed. Peter had started coming over more frequently, slipping out while Jane was asleep. Last night he had pushed his way into Jordan's quarters as she was having dinner, demanding to see her.

"I can't do this anymore," he said. "I can't. I've thought about shooting her in her sleep. I have to get rid of her."

Absently, Jordan went to her cabinet, pulled out a handgun and began to clean it. She wasn't an advocate of violence despite that all-American right to bear arms, but Harm had insisted she get it after Clark Palmer started threatening her. Harm was a classic knight in shining armour; fiercely protective, noble, charismatic, intellectually engaging, and incredibly loving. And not just to her, she recalled, thinking of his determination to find young Annie's killer and protect Annie's sister Dar-Lin. Harm would make a great father. An ironic smile flashed across Jordan's face as she realised the gun was the closest thing to a baby Harm could ever give her. She briefly wondered if Mac would be luckier, before putting the thought away with the gun and getting dressed.

It was a mistake to be seeing Peter at home. She would have to tell him to book a session like any other patient, or preferably seek a second opinion.

Jordan stepped into her office and snuck in some paperwork before her first patients arrived. By lunchtime she had come to another decision. She called Brian and asked him to meet her after work. Then she took a deep breath, dialled another number and left a message.

"You're dumping me? Is it because of Commander Rabb?" Brian demanded to know that night when she told him.

"No," Jordan replied evenly, and it was the truth. "It's just me. I need some time to myself."

"I love you," Brian whispered.

"I know. I'm sorry."

He left.

Another minute passed before Jordan took a piece of paper from her desk and began to write.

Harm,

I left a message on your machine today but then I thought you'd probably moved on and might not want to call me back, so I'm sending you this note. Even after I left, I have to admit I remained in conflict about you.

Until this morning. I woke with the sense that our relationship was not a lost opportunity as I thought, but a gift. I'm a better person for having known you and I hope you feel the same way about me. I've been seeing somebody but feel the need to be with myself for a time. This is a good thing. I don't know what choices you've made but I can only hope you're embracing them with the same confidence. My best wishes, always.

Love,

Jordan.

This time, she sent the letter.

Jordan smiled to herself, free for the first time in over a year. Tomorrow would be a brand new day, and the beginning of the rest of her life.